


Act I: Madness and Wit

by LadyCorvidae, roseforthethorns



Series: Don't Stand So Close to Me [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Angst, Attempted Murder, Blow Jobs, Bullying, Explicit Language, F/M, Food Play, Light BDSM, M/M, Murder, Orgasm Denial, Professor!Lock, Romance, Sexy Times, Smut, Strangulation, Threats, Vaginal Sex, Violence, dub-con, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 58,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCorvidae/pseuds/LadyCorvidae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseforthethorns/pseuds/roseforthethorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Professor Mycroft Holmes goes on sabbatical, he manages to get his younger brother to take over his position as an English Literature professor. What will happen when he meets Molly Hooper, ward of Headmaster Gregory Lestrade and girlfriend to the king of the school, Jim Moriarty?</p><p>(The title of this series /is/ the Police song of the same name. That song is what inspired us to write this particular story, and then it just sort of took on a life of its own)</p><p>((I own nothing of these characters. All Sherlock rights go to the BBC, Moffat, and Gatiss. I'm just having some fun.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Professor

**Author's Note:**

> Indebted as always to my co-writer ladycorvidae.

Molly sighed as she hefted her satchel full of books over her shoulder. Another day of classes in her second year at university. She ignored the talk that she heard from behind hands.

"Goody two-shoes."

"Rich bitch."

"Spoiled brat."

"Nerd."

"Slut."

All were becoming normal. She didn't have to pay for her schooling; her legal guardian was the headmaster, and that, along with her intelligence, made her a target. She tried hard to close out the gossip and the names, but it was difficult. However, one bit of news _did_ catch her ear: there was a new professor.

"Saw him walking in... oh. my. _God_ , he is gorgeous!"

"Heard he's taking over for Prof. Holmes while he's on sabbatical."

"Hope he gives less homework! Daft bird, Holmes was. And such a _boring_ teacher! God."

Molly despaired; she had actually _liked_ the classes that Prof. Holmes taught, and this talk of a new, attractive professor disheartened her.

oOoOo

"No... yes... oh for God's sake Mycroft will you get off... yes, I know... you've told me already... look, your students are in good hands so unless you have something important to say to me, goodbye!" Sherlock threw his mobile on the desk in his office and dropped his face in his hands. He had told his brother a thousand times (well, fifty-seven to be exact) that the students would be fine while he was gone and he had nothing to worry about, and while he resented his brother using his influence to land him the position, he was grateful for the work; at the very least, it might attempt to stave off the boredom that was left in the wake of finishing his Masters and defending his doctorate, making him one of the youngest professors in Britain. He glanced at his watch and sighed heavily. Time to go teach a bunch of brats about English Literature, most of which they probably wouldn't even understand.

oOoOo

Molly sat through her Forensic Biology class, rapt with interest; she was looking to become a pathologist when she graduated, moving on to medical school. Some would call her morbid, but she thought that it was fascinating. She glanced at the clock. Time to make her way to her English Lit class. Time to see if the professor filling in for Mycroft Holmes was any good. She once more shouldered her bulging satchel and made her way through the press and crowd of people. She managed to get there at least five minutes early; she liked arriving early for classes. It allowed her to find a good seat, not to mention put finishing touches on any homework that may have been assigned. Also, it gave her time to copy down the notes on the board, or, if there wasn't any of that to do, read a bit. The classroom was deserted, and she chose a seat near the back of the room. This made sure she was ignored and primarily out of sight. She cracked open a book from her bag; _Beowulf_. One of her favorites. She began to read, getting lost in the words.

oOoOo

"Mycroft _would_ take a job at the one place where we _both_ happened to go to school," Sherlock grumbled to himself as he swept down the corridor, his coat fanning out a bit behind him. He knew the room he was going to, remembered it well, in fact; he'd had the majority of his Literature classes there in his years at school, semi-fond memories of Shakespeare and Chaucer and Clarke... even Tolkien had taken his interest for a time. He found the room with ease, setting down his smart, black briefcase and popping the latches before retrieving his copy of the play he was supposed to be teaching (Hamlet...only Mycroft would work to become the most world renown Shakespearean Scholar..although Sherlock had a certain soft spot for the play) and the class syllabus, new and improved for his own curricula and ideas. He glanced up and started.

"Sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here."

Molly started from her book and blinked. And stared. And had to remind herself to _stop_ staring. The man before her was the most attractive one she had ever seen, with his black curls and his dark coat and... oh god, a copy of Hamlet. Her very favorite Shakespearean play. "Oh! Ah, hello. Sorry. Erm... I take it you're covering for Professor Holmes while he's on his sabbatical?" she asked. _I'm dating someone, I'm dating someone, I'm dating someone_ , was running around in her head. Not like she'd have any chance with this man, anyway. He was not only gorgeous (that clique of girls was right. Although 'gorgeous' was proving to be too poor of a word  in her mind...), he was her _professor_ which made him untouchable.

"Ah, yes. Also Professor Holmes as...  _fate_ would have it. Sherlock Holmes. And you are...?" _roughly twenty, currently dating top of her class, and... something... rich, for certain... ah, right there, her Guardian- parents dead- is Headmaster Lestrade, Sherlock could recall her picture on his desk... fairly clever for her year... and, oh, that's interesting_ "What about pathology interests you?"

"M-Molly Hooper. And how did you-? Never mind, the other Prof. Holmes would do much the same thing..." she said, furrowing her brow at first, then waving her hand as if to dismiss her own words. "I... I like to see what makes people tick. And help them, if I can. Well, help their families. I know, it sounds silly, but if I can bring at least a little peace and closure, I'd consider it a job well done."

"Because of your parents."

"Yes," she said softly. Her parents had died when she was much younger, and Mr. Lestrade, Greg, Dad... he had taken her in, something about her father being a good friend of his. She had no other living relatives, and so she had no other choice. Not like she could choose anyway; she was about 8 when her parents died in that horrible car accident.

"Seems their death was fairly tragic for you. So... er... the Headmaster took you in, then?" His brow furrowed slightly, trying to remember if he'd ever seen her on campus when he'd been attending.

"Yes, he did. My father was a good friend of his, according to him," she said. She squirmed slightly under the intensity of his gaze, his blue eyes quicksilver-bright and piercing until the door banged open, making both of them jump. Sherlock quickly returned to his papers as the students began filing in, one noticeably smaller, dark haired boy easily claiming a seat next to Miss Hooper.

"Jim!" she said, brightening when her boyfriend sat next to her. She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, smiling at him. They had been dating for almost half a year now, and she really liked him. She wouldn't go so far as to say 'love'...sometimes he was so intense that he frightened her. But he was good to her, he made her laugh, and he was clever. All things that she needed to get by when the barbs she heard against her made the day unbearable.

"Hallo there, precious," he replied, reaching over to play with her mousy brown hair. "And how are we this morning?"

She shivered a little in pleasure as he played with her hair; he knew that she especially liked that. "Just fine. You?"

"Been ever so dull this morning. Heard there was a new professor and got slightly interested. That him up there? The odd looking one?"

"Yes, that's him. Apparently, his name is Holmes too. I bet they're related; he even does that deduction thing that the other Professor Holmes does."

"Oooo, younger brother... that _is_ interesting," Jim murmured, watching the man more closely now, his hand still fiddling with Molly's hair.

"All right, class, that's enough, settle down."

Molly settled into her chair, sighing happily as Jim's hand continued its task; she had the feeling that today would be a good day, for once.

"Thank you." Sherlock stared out at the students; he really wanted to be anywhere else at that moment. "Now, as all of you know by now, Professor Mycroft Holmes has left on his sabbatical to, as I'm sure will not come as a shock to you, Italy." His brother did have a bit of a reputation for enjoying his food, "So for the remainder of this year, I will be teaching you. So as not to make things even more confusing for your adolescent minds, my name also happens to be Professor Holmes. Professor Sherlock Holmes."

Her eyebrows went up and she straightened in her seat. So he _was_ related to the man who had left. And... Sherlock? What an odd name. But he was brilliant, that she knew; she had seen his name on several academic papers that were required reading for TA's.  A wave of giggles went throughout the class as he told them where the man he was replacing had gone; Italy. Molly snickered as well... Prof. Holmes the elder was well-known for being a great lover of food. She smiled again; she had the feeling, once more, that the day would be good, and that this class would be even better.

"Now, I know this is tedious and like yourselves, I'd rather be elsewhere so, Mr..." he consulted the roster "Moriarty, kindly hand out these syllabi, Mr... ah... Moran, these guides on Shakespeare. Hop to it now, gentlemen. Time is a very precious commodity and should not be wasted."

She heard Jim sigh and saw him roll his eyes as he was summoned to pass out syllabi, but he perked up when his best friend, Sebastian Moran, was also picked to pass out papers. Seb and Jim were pretty much inseparable. In fact, it just so happened that Jim had blown off more than one date to go help Seb with something. This somewhat rankled with Molly, but she let it slide; after all, she really cared for him, and he always said he was sorry. And that's all that mattered. Wasn't it...?

Once the papers were out, Sherlock turned to the board and wrote one quote in elegant, looping script.

_"To die, to sleep, to sleep perchance to dream, aye, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause. There's the respect that makes calamity of so long life." (1)_

Molly's lips quirked again into a smile. Hamlet's soliloquy, possibly one of the most well-known of Shakespeare's monologues. She loved it (although her favorite line from the play was a toss-up between "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, then are dreamt of in your philosophy" and "Remember this above all else; to thine own self be true."), and was eager to get started. (2)

"I'm sure you know what this is from, and if you don't, you really have no business in this class. by a show of hands, who knows the act, scene, and character of this particular type of speech? Anyone?" A few hands went up; most of the students were reading the syllabus and clearly did not like what they saw. "You-third row, sallow face, pointed nose, greasy hair, and cheating on your girlfriend, something you'd like to share with the class?"

The boy he had pointed at paled, but composed himself quickly. "Yeah, I do, _Professor_. You have us taking a test nearly every other week. There has to be something in the rules against that."

"I think you'll find if you actually read your student handbook and the rules of this institution instead of shagging the girl sitting next to you at every possible occasion that _no_ , there is nothing that says I cannot give you an examination if I want and, in fact, since you've been so _delightfully_ helpful in reminding us of the rules, everyone please take out a pen and a blank sheet of paper. Your first test of the year, thanks to Mr. Anderson."

Everyone groaned and several people shouted "Thanks, Anderson, you twat!" (and several variations thereof) across the room as the sallow-faced boy sunk lower into his seat, while the girl he was purportedly shagging was glaring at him and simultaneously looking like she wanted to vanish as well. Molly sighed and took out a blank sheet of paper and a pen, hoping that the test wasn't _too_ difficult. It had been a while since she had read Hamlet.

Sherlock smirked ever so slightly. "Five minutes on this topic: Consider the character of Polonius. What part does he play in the semblance of comic relief in the play? How is his speech an irony of itself? Is he useful in any way other than as a doddering old fool. Go."

There was more groaning as well as some ripe curses hurled out. Molly closed her eyes for a moment and thought, before she picked up her pen, put down her name, the date, and the question, and began.

Sherlock paced back and forth in front of the room, consulting a stop watch for the time. He smiled to himself to see them all feverishly scribbling... well, with a few exceptions.

"Time's up."

Molly stretched her hand and cracked her knuckles. She had written down everything she could remember, and she hoped that her answer was satisfactory, at the very least. She could see a few despairing looks...okay, _many_ despairing looks, from her classmates around her. She capped her pen and waited, either to be dismissed or for the lesson to begin.

"Miss Hooper, kindly collect the exams and place them on my desk. The rest of you, retrieve your copies of the play. You may leave when you have read through Act One, Scene Two, and made your conjectures as to the nature of the ghost and Hamlet's love for his mother. Throw everything you may have learned about this play out the window. Look at the text with fresh eyes... well, for most of you at least, eyes unadulterated by a night of drinking and shagging. Your answers are to be handed in before you leave."

Molly stood and started collecting papers; she was unsurprised to find several blank papers in the pile she had picked up. Everyone was grumbling and complaining; she made her way down to the desk and placed the exams neatly on it, or she would have, at least. At the very last second, someone stuck out their foot and tripped her, causing her to fall to the ground and sending the papers everywhere. " _Freak_ ," another classmate, Sally Donovan, hissed, smiling meanly. Molly sighed and began to gather up the papers as quickly as she could. The faster she got the papers up, the faster she could read, and the faster she could leave.

"Donovan," Sherlock snapped, fixing her with a cold, piercing gaze. "One month of detentions." He wrote on a slip of paper and held it out. "Collect your things and report to the Headmaster. _Now_!"

Donovan scowled and made a show of picking up her things and leaving, snatching the slip from the professor's hand. Molly winced as the girl _glared_ at her as she walked out, another enemy made. She was sure that she'd be hearing a bevy of new names hurled her way when she was in the halls now.

"Anyone else who has any bright ideas about bullying in this classroom will meet with the same fate. Do not look at it as an excuse to get out of class free. I _will_ know if you've been to the Headmaster. My brother may be a bit more lenient when it comes to classroom management, but I will not tolerate any insubordination. Is that understood?"

There was a chorus of "Yes, Professor" and Molly hastily deposited the exams before hurrying back to her seat, face ablaze. She wanted to sink into her chair and never come out of it.

"You look positively pink, Kitten," Jim whispered, stroking her arm as he thumbed through his copy of the play lazily with his other hand.

"You would be too if you fell flat on your face in front of the entire class," she replied miserably, picking up her well-worn copy of the play.

"Don't let the bitch get you down-"

"Mr. Moriarty, would you like to join Miss Donovan?"

Jim looked up slowly, glaring briefly before relaxing into his signature lazy smile. "No, Professor."

"Then more reading and less flirting."

Molly bit her lip and made a nervous smile before giggling softly. She buried her nose in the book, getting drawn into the words that she knew and loved so well.

Sherlock went through the exams, grading each one thoroughly as the students worked through the current task. The results were disappointing overall, but there were two students who stood out among the rest... surprise, surprise, the 'Golden Couple,' Miss Hooper's marks only slightly below those of Mr. Moriarty. He had all of the tests graded before the aforementioned boy walked up and deposited his paper on the desk with a smirk before sauntering from the room.

Molly watched as Jim finished before her and left. She sighed and returned to the paper in front of her. Left behind again... once more, she wasn't surprised. She plowed on through the paper, giving careful thought to each sentence as she wrote; she finished not long after and walked up to the front, depositing her paper and turning to go.

"Second highest marks in the class," Sherlock murmured as he took her paper. "Very promising start, Miss Hooper."

"Oh. Th-thank you," she stammered quietly, blushing again as she walked quickly out. Jim wasn't waiting for her. Again, not a surprise. She didn't have anything until after lunch, so rather than go to her room, she wandered to the library, seeking out refuge in the stacks.

"Well, that class should be very interesting," said a smooth voice behind her.

She started, gasping. "Jim! Gave me a fright, you did," she said, laughing a little breathlessly.

"I know. I'm just sooooo quiet," he purred, kissing her ear and sliding easily into the empty chair beside her. She smiled and turned her head to give him a proper kiss, a swift meeting of the lips.

He pulled her closer, almost into his lap, his hands carding through her hair as he claimed her lips for himself. She made a strangled sort of noise and melted into his touch, mouth opening under his, fingers grasping the fabric of his shirt, holding him to her. Jim was a fantastic kisser, she absently thought, twining her own fingers through his short, dark hair, adding a sharp bite to his lower lip by mistake.

He growled at the bite, breaking the kiss and looking into her eyes. "Well then, if _that's_ how you'll be..." he hissed before pulling her completely into his lap and kissing her harder, nipping her lip in retaliation as he got a tight grip in her hair. Molly gasped and shivered, arching into him, and making a soft noise of either approval or protest as he nipped her in return. He was kissing her harder, and she was responding, finding everything suddenly electric. Sensing an opening, Jim's tongue prised her lips and teeth apart before darting inside. Molly moaned into his mouth, her tongue meeting his as he took what he wanted from her kiss.

There was a sudden clearing of the throat that caused them both to start and pull away from each other. "If you want to be doing that, I suggest you find somewhere else to be. I'm not your chaperone, dears," said the warm yet stern voice of Mrs. Hudson, the librarian.

Molly was _mortified_. "I'm _so sorry_ , Mrs. Hudson," she said, feeling slightly ill. "Jim, we should go..."

He rolled his eyes and pushed her off his lap. "If you _insist_ ," he drawled, shouldering his bag and striding off. "Keep up, darling..."

Molly quickly gathered her things and followed, trailing her boyfriend like a shadow... or a ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter in a 5 part work. You are in for one hell of a ride.
> 
> (1) Act III, Scene i. The "To Be or Not To Be" soliloquy
> 
> (2)- Both quotes are Act I, Scenes 4 and 3 respectively


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out, John Watson is a professor at this University as well, and he hasn't seen Sherlock in at least six years.

Finally alone in his office, Sherlock dropped his head to the desk, groaning. There was no way in Heaven or Hell he was going to be able to survive an entire year of this drivel.

John Watson was walking by the English department when he heard a melodramatic sigh emanating from one of the offices. He paused. He knew that sigh. But it couldn't be. Could it? The door to Mycroft's office was open slightly, and he poked his head in. On the desk was a mass of curly hair, attached to a thin body. John's face broke out into a wide grin. "Sherlock Holmes, when the hell did you steal your brother's job, and why did you not tell me about it?" he said, leaning casually in the doorway.

The professor's head snapped up, his eyes going wide. "Because he decided he'd rather go abroad and get fat than stay here and teach this group of snotrags."

John laughed. "That's no way to talk about your students, and GET OVER HERE AND GIVE ME A HUG, YOU GIT!!! I haven't seen you in, God, how long? Six years, at the very least," he exclaimed. If his grin was wide before, then he was positively beaming now.

Sherlock was on his feet in a flash, embracing his old friend very tightly. "I'll talk about them any way I like. They can't even answer simple questions about Hamlet and-" the rest of his sentence was lost as the shorter man squeezed nearly all the air from his lungs. "J-John...  _air_..."

"Oh! Right, sorry. What kind of doctor would I be if I killed someone with a hug?" he said, a bit sheepish, releasing Sherlock. "And you have to remember, not everyone is as clever as you and Mycroft are. Did you know that Mrs. Hudson is _still_ here?" he asked, falling easily back into friendly gossip.

"Is she? The dear. She must be close to eighty by now at the very least. Still keeping us in line with her 'Not your housekeeper' bit when we leave things out in the library?"

"I think the school would collapse if she ever left," John said, smiling at the fond memories of the elderly woman chasing after them, threatening with an impressive tome of Chaucer in hand, telling them to pick up after themselves.

Sherlock laughed, hugging John again. "Come on, I think I have lunch now. What about you?"

He checked his watch. "Surprisingly, I do! Up to seeing if the school food is as horrific as you remember?"

"Oh perish the thought. I brought takeaway of course."

John pulled a face. "Eurgh. You have the right idea. I brought lunch myself: sandwiches from home, as usual," he said, chuckling. "Come on... if we don't get going soon, there aren't going to be any seats left from the crowd of massed humanity that is the student body."

"Have you really forgotten our place? For shame, John." Sherlock smirked at him, retrieving his own lunch and locking the office behind him. "Coming?"

"Right behind you. Damn my short legs," John said, laughing as he tried to keep up with Sherlock's long strides.

"Genetics, John."

"Damn my genetics, then. The tree is still there! They were doing landscaping some years ago, and I was worried that they would have taken it down, but it survived," John said, pleased that their 'spot' was still intact.

Sherlock had already spread out his food when the blonde man caught up, Chinese takeaway. "Leftovers from dinner last night. I still don't eat much, so one order is enough for three or four meals."

John wrinkled his nose. "That's pushing it before it goes off," he said, settling himself next to his best friend, leaning against the tree and taking out his sandwich. "And if you ate any less, you'd blow away in the next high wind."

"And I doubt even the mightiest wind could topple you."

"Oi! You calling me fat? Arse!"

"Solid, John. Not fat. Stoic, even."

"Stoic...? Whatever, just... eat your lunch," he grumbled good-naturedly, tucking into his own lunch and his thermos full of tea.

"Really, John? Are you still in primary school?" Sherlock said over his dumpling.

"Sod off. It's cheap and I like jam," he said thickly around a mouth full of peanut butter and jelly.

"Wait, I think you have some on your face."

"What? Where?"

"There!" Sherlock reached out and nudged John backwards into the grass, howling with laughter as he hadn't in several years

"AUGH! PRAT!" John said, righting himself and laughing as well, shoving Sherlock's shoulder. "I _always_ fall for that stupid trick!"

The English Professor could not stop laughing. "You haven't changed in the slightest, old friend."

"And neither have you," John said, laughing with him. "God, it's good to see you again! I missed you something awful."

"What have you been up to? I don't think I've seen you since graduation from this place."

"Medical school; did some time abroad with the Army, came back here, and... well, here I am!"

"You went into the military... oh, _stupid,_ I can see it in your hair and the way you walk. Unscathed as well, it would appear, except, of course, for the PTSD and nightmares."

John sobered. "Yeah, those," he said. Then he brightened. "So, what have _you_ been up to?"

"One of the youngest Doctors of English Literature in the world. Got my Masters and defended my Doctorate before getting a call from my prat of a brother telling me he's going off to Italy... to get fatter I'd assume and that he could get me a spot here at my old university in his classroom. Wouldn't fate do that to me? Give me an interest in the exact same area as my _brother_ of all people?"

John sniggered. "Fate and the fact that your brother is a git to you," he replied.

"He's _always_ been a git to me. And I have both Anderson and Donovan in my Second Level British Literature course."

John rolled his eyes. "I know we're not supposed to speak ill of the students, but they're a right proper couple of bastards. _And_ he's cheating on his girlfriend with Donovan... but you probably already know that," he said.

"Yes, I believe I may have outed that in front of my students... not good?"

He winced. "A bit not good, yeah."

"Well, they'll get over it... be shagging in the broom cupboards next. I also have Moriarty, Moran, and Hooper in my class."

"An interesting threesome... not like that! Stop with the looks. Moriarty and Moran are inseparable, and frankly, something seems a bit...  _off_ about them. I can't quite tell what. And Hooper? Molly's a sweet girl. Very quiet and shy, but _very_ smart. Possibly the best student I have in my Forensic Biology class," John said, thoughtfully.

"She came from your class to mine this morning, interesting. And 'off?' Well, Moriarty is rather intense for a boy of twenty. Moran seems to be the 'strong and silent' type, almost as if he's hired muscle."

"Exactly. There's something about those two that just screams 'criminal mastermind and lackey," John said.

"Interesting, I'll have to keep an eye on them. Moriarty is very clever, though. Top marks on the test I gave them-"

"Right genius, he is and... wait, a test? Sherlock, it's the _first day_. You're just setting them up for failure with something like that!"

"Anderson said something stupid."

John rolled his eyes. "Hardly surprising."

"So, wait, I thought I saw this but did not want to believe it. Anderson is that much of a clot _all the time_?"

"Unfortunately, yes. He's in the Criminal Justice major, but I think he should switch to Paleontology. He has an almost unhealthy obsession with dinosaurs."

Sherlock snorted into his takeaway container before grabbing his bottle of water and taking a long swig. "Now you're having me on."

"Nope. He has a Velociraptor tattooed on his left bicep. I swear, I'm telling the truth."

The water Sherlock was drinking came spurting out his nose.

John _lost_ it. He was howling. "OhmyGOD I can't believe I just made water come out your nose!! Ha-HAAAAAAH!!! That is just too _rich_. Never gonna let you live that down," he said, between gasps of laughter.

"Shut... up..." Sherlock growled, coughing and wiping at the fluid dripping from his nostrils. "You- you caught me off guard is all."

"Nnnnope, still not letting you live it down," John said gleefully. "But here, have a tissue. Be grateful it wasn't something hot," he said sagely. "It would take some explaining to how you got burns on the _inside_ of your nose."

"Speaking from personal experience, John?" Sherlock teased, wiping away the last of the water from his face.

"No, you git, I'm not," he sniggered, giving his friend another gentle shove. He checked his watch and groaned. "Ah, shite. I have to get back; another class to prepare for. We should do this more often!" John said, packing up the remains of his lunch.

"Now that I know you work here, do you really think I'll let you get away so easily?" Sherlock had his food packed and was on his feet in less than ten seconds.

John rolled his eyes and grinned. "No, I suppose you won't," he said with a dramatic sigh. "Back to the grindstone. 'Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!'"

"You remember your Henry the Fifth. Very good. It would seem I taught you something after all," Sherlock said, grinning. He hadn't been this happy since, well, since the last time they'd been together. They'd been inseparable since their first science class where they'd been assigned each other as lab partners.

"Yeah, yeah, gloat," John said. He hadn't been this pleased in a long while. It was great to see his best friend again.

"Of course I will." Sherlock followed John back to his office, taking great interest at all of the specimens and samples on his walls. "If I hadn't such a talent for literature I would most definitely be in your profession, John."

"Oh really? Huh. Interesting. D'you still have that skull?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't ask stupid questions."

"Meaning yes, of course you do."

"You think I would get rid of my favorite gift so easily?"

"Really? Yorick is your favorite?" John asked, chuffed.

"Of course he is. It was the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever gotten for me."

"Awwww. Y'know, I still have that stethoscope you gave me," he said.

"Well, it was practical," Sherlock said, struggling not to blush; he was genuinely touched. John _had_ always brought out the best in him.

John grinned at his friend, then glanced at the clock again, sighing. "Class is in two minutes; yours as well. Guess you should go prepare for the next wave of...what was it you called them? Snotrags?"

"Oh, this _is_ tedious."

"Welcome to the teaching profession," John said, clapping Sherlock heartily on the shoulder.

"Oh that this too, too sullied flesh would melt, thaw, and resolve itself into a dew," he muttered, hugging John briefly before turning to go. (1)

"Spare me the dramatics," John said, returning the hug with an extra squeeze. "Get on with you, now."

"Never," Sherlock replied, smirking before slipping out of the room and heading for his office to collect the materials for his next class...  _The Bard: The Moor and the Maid_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)- Act I, scene ii of Hamlet


	3. Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She let out a great breath, forcing herself to relax. "I...ah...it's my f-first time," she said quietly.
> 
> "I know, lovely. Jim can tell. It's, well, not mine. Is that a problem?"
> 
> She shook her head. "At least one of us should know what they're doing," she said, chuckling a little.

Molly cracked open her copy of Hamlet with a sigh. She had to re-read Act Two so she could fully answer the question assigned for homework. She was definitely enjoying the work that Professor Holmes gave. It was challenging, and it allowed her to go greater into depth into the play then she had ever been. Jim and Seb were with her, doing the same. Although, they seemed more intent upon whispering to each other than doing their homework.

"No... I told you... we'll go after Dino-dick _after_ class on Thursday. Don't you ever listen to me?"

Molly perked her ears and listened, but made no motion to show that she had heard; as much as she liked being with Jim, she didn't want him to beat anyone up. She'd have to tell Professor Holmes when they next saw each other. Even if Anderson _was_ a twat, he didn't deserve to get a beating from Seb. She knew that he didn't like holding back and only stopped when Jim _told_ him to. One day, she was afraid that Jim would never give the word, and the damage would be too great to undo.

"Molly, Kitten, can you help Sebastian with his work? Poor darling just doesn't understand a word of it," Jim said, giving her puppy eyes.

She bit her lip. "Fine. Budge over, Seb," she said, moving her things and explaining to the larger boy just what the questions meant.

Jim watched her, face resting on his steepled fingers. Molly had always been so adamant about taking things slowly, but he had never given up, would never give up. The work was simple for him, far too easy and _dull_ ; he'd finished it hours ago and just didn't feel like trying to explain the Bard to his right hand. Idiot only signed up for the class so he could be there with Jim in the first place, and Jim was only there because it was 'what a good boyfriend would do' and was not about to risk his reputation and image by upsetting his girlfriend.

After an hour working on the first sentence and making little headway, Molly let out an exasperated sigh. "Seb, if you don't understand it _this_ much, maybe you should drop the class," she said, frustrated.

The boy gave her a steely glare. "Jim, gimme your notes," he growled, snatching the boy's binder and stalking off to another part of the room

Molly closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Sorry," she murmured. "I... am clearly not cut out to be a teacher." She gave a short laugh.

"No, he's just extraordinarily thick." Jim scooted closer, pulling her against his chest and stroking her hair, petting her just like a cat. Molly sighed and relaxed, nuzzling into him and humming in pleasure. She wrapped her arms around his torso and smiled softly; she really did like spending time with him.

"You like listening to my heart, don't you, Kitten?"

"Mhmm's soothing," she said.

"Give Daddy a kiss, won't you? He's _awfully_ lonely."

She grinned and tilted her head up, her mouth pressing against his. He tangled his fingers in her hair and deepened it, moaning very softly so only she could hear. She gasped, feeling a spark of heat run down her spine and settle into her belly. She brought her hands up to his hair as well, arching into him.

"Mmmmmm... yeah," Jim murmured, artfully capturing her tongue with his and teasing it into his mouth. She moaned softly as his tongue met with hers, twining around it, the feeling somewhat foreign but _very_ nice. She tugged gently on his hair, feeling her heart speed up.

Jim pulled her closer so that she was in his lap, working her mouth with very talented lips, nibbling her lip and tugging gently on her hair. She squirmed slightly against him, straddling his lap now, and she felt herself heat up from the crown of her head where his fingers were tangled in her hair, to her toes which curled slightly in her shoes as he gave her a spectacularly good kiss.

Managing to pull his lips away, Jim trailed down her jaw to her neck where he bit gently before sucking and licking at the skin. She gasped and arched into him more. "J-Jim," she said, her voice soft and hoarse, clutching him to her. Everything felt as if it were on fire and that time was moving at a crawl. Not that she cared. Not that she minded.

He sucked a little harder before kissing the skin again. "You know you want to do it to me," He purred in her ear, tongue darting out to trace the skin there. Molly bit her lip and nodded, but not before she shuddered at the feeling of his tongue against her skin. She re-claimed his mouth before moving along his jaw and down, interspersing kisses with light little nips. She got to the carotid artery and bit down slightly harder, making a sort of purring noise as she laved the abused skin with her tongue.

Jim arched into her; for a timid Kitten, she really could be _magnificent_. "Perfect..." he murmured, holding her to him as his eyes fluttered shut, his heart beating just a little faster.

She smiled into his skin as she felt him press closer, into her. She moved down more to bite lightly at his collarbone before moving to the other side, repeating the process. She bit a little harder this time, though, since he seemed to like it so much. When she was satisfied with her handiwork on his neck, she trailed upwards along his jawbone to nip at his earlobe. She wondered where this newfound boldness was coming from; she was usually much more reserved.

"More... oh Kitten... you're marvelous... just... yesssss..." Jim's words trailed off as he relaxed into her, his awareness focused on the location of her lips on his skin. She had even figured out his love of teeth. Molly moved to his mouth once more and claimed it hungrily, nipping hard on his lower lip and soothing the small pain with her tongue before darting it into his mouth to dance with his. She had never seen him this relaxed or...  _oh... oh my_... she squirmed slightly as she felt something prodding her.

He rocked up against her as his hands slid down to her hips, holding her to him as he kissed back hungrily. He could feel the blood in his body rushing down as they continued to kiss, the bruise on his neck throbbing gently. She made a soft, strangled noise in her throat as he rocked into her, pressing against her center, his hands on her hips, holding her to him. She felt like her body would ignite and she bent her head to his throat once more, allowing her breath to puff warmly against the skin before setting her teeth into it again, taking care not to bite _too_ hard.

"Why don't... we move... this to... my room?" he panted, gasping slightly as she bit his neck again. "Lovely... Kitten... Molly..."

She moved away from his throat to look into his eyes. She knew hers must be nearly black, the pupils dilated all the way. She bit her lip, swallowing hard. If she went back with him, she was sure it would escalate, and she was a virgin still. But she _wanted_...

Taking a deep breath, she nodded.

His face broke into a smile/smirk, almost leaping to his feet and sweeping his things into his bag. "Well, come on then."

She smiled back, quickly gathering her things. She stopped. "Should we tell Seb that we're going?" she asked, half turning back to the study area.

"Nahhh, he'll probably spend the night there. Remind me to wake his arse in the morning," Jim purred, grabbing her hand. She giggled as he dragged her along, her heart beating a furious tattoo against her ribs.

oOoOo

It wasn't far to his dorm and they both knew his roommate (Seb) wouldn't be back that night. Jim closed the door after them, locking it and turning around to face her, the only source of light the lamp on his desk. Molly smiled, nervous. The lighting was dim, so she was glad that she couldn't see how much she was blushing or how much her hands were fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. The pale boy strode forward, taking her hands and wrapping them around his waist. "Kitten is nervous," he purred, leaning in close to her. "Anything I can help with?"

She let out a great breath, forcing herself to relax. "I... ah... it's my f-first time," she said quietly.

"I know, lovely. Jim can tell. It's, well, _not_ mine. Is that a problem?"

She shook her head. "At least one of us should know what they're doing," she said, chuckling a little.

He smirked at her, dipping her at first before laying her down on his bed, her knees hanging off the side. "Yes they should," he hummed before kissing her. She stiffened as she was on the bed, but relaxed again as he started kissing her, the nervousness slowly being replaced by need.

He worked her mouth with his as he unbuttoned her blouse and pushed it back off her shoulders. Part of him was screaming to take her hard and rough as he liked, but he didn't want to scare the little thing off, now did he?

She felt her skin break into goose bumps as her blouse slowly came off. Her hands went to his shirt, tugging at it, trying to get it to slip over his head. She lightly trailed her fingers along the warm flesh of his torso, enjoying the way it felt under her hands. He shivered before growling in his throat, pulling back long enough to divest himself of the garment, tossing it to the floor before pulling her (gently) fully onto his bed, her head against the pillows.

She felt heat spike through her as she heard him growl, tucking her lower lip between her teeth as she found herself now fully on his bed, head on the pillows, pinned underneath him. He ground against her slowly, his trousers almost painfully tight as he lowered his lips to her neck, sucking a bruise just below the first one.

A moan tore itself from her throat as he rocked against her, his lips marking her neck just under the first one he had made. She arched up into him, wanting to feel _more_.

"I think you're ready," he murmured, biting swiftly before tugging her skirt and knickers down and fumbling with the button and zip on his own trousers. She gasped at the bite, then, feeling very bold indeed, helped him undo his trousers, slipping her hand inside of them to find... _oh_. She flushed as her fingers explored, feeling him hard and hot and wanting _her_.

His mouth watered, staring down at the slight smirk on her lips. "Well, well, _well_ ," he murmured, swallowing hard and pushing the fabric the rest of the way down his pale, thin frame before reaching into his side table for condoms and lube. He slicked up a finger before reaching down to stroke her, teasing her with the cold digit. She arched and tensed, hands clenching the fabric of the sheets as his finger gently explored.

"Relax, Kitten, or this will never work," he whispered, kissing her abdomen as he slipped his finger gently inside of her. Molly obeyed as best she could, squirming against the invasion. It felt strange, but _good_.

His lips trailed down until he was kissing and fingering her, rutting gently into the bed as his free hand was holding her hip. Her eyes nearly rolled back into her head as she felt his lips join his finger, resisting the urge to close her legs against him, feeling embarrassed but aroused at the same time. "J- _Jim_ ," she gasped, throwing her head back into the pillows.

Slowly, he lifted his head; he knew his brown eyes must look black now. "Yes?"

"P-please," she said. She felt something deep inside herself coiling and tightening, and she felt so _empty_. "I... I need you," she gasped, staring into his now-black eyes.

He crawled back up her body and kissed her hard, sucking on her lip before undoing her bra. "In time, Kitten."

She mewled in frustration, shifting so he could remove her bra. She kissed along his shoulder, moving her way around to the front so she could nip at his collarbone. His lip curled in approval as his fingertips danced along her bare nipples. "Such a lovely little pet..."

Molly gasped and arched her back, her breasts filling his hands. She fumbled with her skirt where it was tangled around her knees, trying to remove it. Jim just smirked before tweaking the tips, watching her reaction. She let out a short cry before biting her lip hard, nearly drawing blood. She felt almost dizzy with desire.

"Be a love and open the condom," he whispered, shifting and tugging her skirt and knickers the rest of the way off. "I'll even let you put it on."

Molly nodded and took the foil packet with shaking hands, ripping it open. She placed it on Jim and slowly rolled it on, down his length, once again marveling at how he felt. He couldn't hold back the full body shudder or the groan that emanated from his chest. Taking her wrists and pinning them by her head, he lined up with her. "Last chance to say no, Kitten."

She merely held his gaze and smirked.

"That's my girl," he growled before pressing in, savoring every tiny twitch, each expression her face made, every single sound. _Soon_ , he thought, _soon you can take her apart and be as rough as you want_.

Molly cried out as he entered her, stretching and pressing deeper and deeper into her body. It _hurt_ , but only for a short while; then she just felt... stretched. And full. She was panting, trying to get used to the newness of the feeling, before experimentally shifting her hips upwards.

He grinned, meeting her gaze almost curiously. "Like that, do you?"

Molly nodded. "Yeah," she said, breathless. "Hurts a bit, though."

"Well, it will do. Not used to anything this big in there yet."

She chuckled a little, nodding again. She shifted once more, a spike of pleasure going through her this time.

Once he was sure she wasn't going anywhere, Jim rocked down into her. And again. And again. Molly keened as he rocked into her, her hips starting to form a rhythm with his, so she was meeting him, coming up as he came down. The feeling of him inside her, hot and hard, was amazing.

His grip on her wrists tightened slightly as he sped up, panting and growling, his mouth in a hungry smile as he gazed down at her, her eyes closed and mouth slack. Molly wrapped her legs around him, linking her ankles around his hips and pulling him closer, crying out as he hit a spot deep within her that was new and made her vision go blue-white for a moment as she was pushed even closer to the brink.

Her legs around his waist... that was new. He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers, smirking and pulling back slightly as she followed him, seeking his touch. _Perfect_ , he thought, pounding into her, driving her down into the mattress, arcs of pleasure going through him with every thrust.

She followed him as he pulled his mouth away after _just_ brushing her lips with his. She needed that, needed a little more. She was so _close_...

"Ah- I -want-  _you_... want to finish. _Please_ ," she gasped, arching into him more, struggling slightly as his hands still held her wrists pinned to the mattress.

" _Really_..." he purred, so close to her lips that he could feel the heat of her breath, slowing down so that he was rolling his hips instead of driving into her.

She moaned low in her throat. Now he was teasing her. "Yes, really," she breathed, brushing her mouth against his.

"Prove... it..."

He wanted her to prove it? Fine, she would. Molly snarled and snapped her hips up against his, forcing him deeper.

Eyebrows when up as Jim's breath stuck in his chest. "Hold on tight," he hissed before claiming her mouth and speeding back up, thrusting so fast he could feel the burn in his thighs.

She nearly wailed into his mouth as his pace sped up again. It didn't take very long before she seized and shattered, crying his name out as she fell over the edge. "Ah...  _ah_! Jim!! Oh, _Jim_!"

To hear his name on her lips... well, it didn't really get more erotic than that, now did it? He rode out about half of her climax before cresting and coming, thrusts erratic as he moaned and whimpered... actually whimpered, "Oh- fucking- Christ- M-Molly!"

She came _again_ as she heard him whimper her name, felt him jerk and twitch inside her. This time she bit down on his shoulder as she rode out the waves of her pleasure, still taking care to not break the skin. The growl was nearly a roar as Jim dropped his weight on her, still shuddering and twitching and...  _god_ her teeth. He would always love teeth. He nosed her neck before kissing his marks on her skin and chuckling very softly in the way he did when something was incredibly amusing or extremely interesting.

She was panting and purring, twitching herself in the aftershocks of her pleasure, relishing in the feel of him resting atop her. "That was... oh my _God_." she breathed, nuzzling him as she listened to his quiet chuckle.

"Quite good for a first time... not at all how I had planned the evening, although, I can't say that I mind how it turned out."

She laughed at that. "Can't say that I mind either."

"Not so timid as you appear when in bed. That _was_ a nice turn up."

She flushed, both pleased and slightly embarrassed at his praise. She snuggled into him more, still trying to free her wrists from his grasp. He released her, pulling up and out before disposing the condom and curling up under the covers. "You can stay if you want. Up to you."

"I... I'd like that," she said, cuddling into him, sharing his body heat. They both quickly fell asleep, wrapped around each other, smelling of each other, each lulled into dreams by the other's breathing.

oOoOo

The next morning, however, there was quite the rude awakening.

Jim shifted when he heard the click of the door, scrunching up his face as he realized he was slightly sucking on Molly's neck. Then he heard the voice.

"You are a right wanker for leaving me there all- JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!! MY EYES!!" Seb howled, after barging in through the door.

Jim bolted upright, smacking his head on the wall. "SEBASTIAN! WHATTHEFUCK?!"

Molly woke up, blinking blearily. "Wha-?" she said, then squeaked in horror and dove under the covers to hide her nakedness. "Seeeeb, turn around!" she wailed from underneath the blankets.

Seb scowled and glared at Jim. "You let me alone in the fucking study room, and now you...." he mouthed the next words "slept with that _bint_?"

Jim glared at him. "I'll explain in a mo," he mouthed back before saying, "Get the fuck out and let us get dressed for fuck sake!"

Seb snarled and left, slamming the door hard enough to shake plaster dust from around the frame. Molly cautiously peeked out from her hiding spot. "Thank you," she murmured, kissing his cheek.

"Get dressed, Kitten. I have to let the Tiger back in before he claws up the hallway." Jim rose, grabbing his silk bathrobe from where it was on the back of his chair. She giggled and began to search for her clothes, wincing slightly as new muscles inside her twinged from use.

Jim swept his dirty clothes into the hamper before making his bed and sorting through his bag for his books for the day. Molly found her clothes and swiftly donned them, making sure they weren't wrinkled too badly before she started collecting her things. She checked the clock and smiled; she'd have enough time to get back to her room, change, and freshen up a bit before it was time for her classes.

"See you around then, Kitten?"

"Yeah, see you around," she said, smiling and kissing his mouth, adding that little bite that stung as a reminder of what they had shared.

He growled. "Just how I like it," before opening the door to let her out and Seb back in. Once Molly was gone and the door was shut once more, Jim turned to his roommate. "Sorry 'bout that, Tiger-"

"THE FUCK, JIM?!" Seb roared, eyes blazing. "Not only do you let me fucking _sleep_ in the library, you go off with _her_?"

"You're so thick you think Shakespeare is a type of milkshake, Sebby. And yes. We happen to be dating. I just happened to get some last night. You could have come back at _any time_. Moron."

Seb ground his jaw and fought very hard not to punch his roommate in the face. He didn't like the fact that Jim was dating Molly; he thought she was annoying. And it didn't help that he had a thing for Jim as well.

"What is your problem, anyway? You always act like I'm not allowed to go anywhere or do anything without your okay first which is really a laugh since _I'm_ the one who pulled _you_ into the popular crowd and took you under my wing even when no one would go near you because of Andrew Twig's nose and-"

Seb growled and screwed up his courage, grabbed Jim by the collar, and shut him up by kissing him hard on the mouth. Jim went flying into Sebastian only to have his...  _mouth_ claimed in a kiss. The smaller boy's eyes widened, staring at the blonde's closed lids until Seb broke the kiss.

Seb broke for air, panting. "Shut up," he said, his voice hoarse.

Jim was rendered speechless very rarely, and this would most likely be the most memorable of those times. "Okay... right... gay roommate is hot for me... well then-"

"I said _shut up_ ," Seb said, kissing Jim again.

This time Jim gave back as good as he got. He kissed Sebastian hard, prying firm lips open with his tongue and fisting his deceptively strong hands in the older boy's hair, growling in his chest. Seb moaned into the kiss before growling gutturally, his tongue dancing with Jim's, clutching him hard against him.

Jim jumped up, wrapping his legs around the taller boy's waist instead of doing the undignified thing and standing on tiptoe, latching onto Sebastian like a starfish. The blonde chuckled. "A bit eager, now?" he said against Jim's mouth, his hands going around the smaller boy's back, holding him in place.

Jim broke the kiss, staring at Seb. "One, I'm bi. Two, never eager, impatient. And three, you fucking expect me to let you have all the fun?"

Seb rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Jimmy."

The boy's face darkened. " _Jimmy_? Really? You stoned or-"

Seb stopped Jim's mouth with another kiss. "You talk _far_ too much."

Jim yanked on Seb's hair, pulling him back. "Do not."

The taller boy snarled as Jim pulled his hair. "Do _so_. You're like a magpie, always chattering along." Then he smirked. "Magpie. Suits you, that does."

"Nicknames now? We _are_ bold this morning."

"What can I say? I enjoy skirting the edge."

"You enjoy flirting with danger, you moron."

"Priss-pants."

"Idiot."

"Nancy-boy."

"Gutter-snipe."

"Cad."

"Cad, _really_? Cretin."

"Oaf."

"Uh, no. That's you. Fa-"

Seb snarled. "Don't you _dare_."

"Ooooh, is the mean old Tiger _touchy_ about liking it up the ar-"

Seb hauled off and punched Jim. "That was a warning. Next time I won't be this _nice_. Besides, you like it too, or else you wouldn't be clinging to me like a leech."

Jim flew back, taking Seb down on top of him as he was still wrapped around the boy. He tried to respond, but Seb landing on him had driven the air from his lungs

"No smart remarks to that? _Good_."

Jim snarled before coughing hard, gasping for air. Seb disengaged himself from Jim's clinging grip and stood. "Next time you feel like fucking your piece of tail, _warn_ me. We still share a room."

Jim stuck out his leg and tripped the boy. "Ooops... sorry."

Seb growled before lashing his foot out and catching Jim in the crotch. " _Oops_."

The dark haired boy squeaked, clutching at his groin in pain as he curled up on the floor. "You... absolute...  _wanker_..."

Seb grinned ferally, showing off the points of his teeth. "Takes one to know one."

"You were- snogging me- a moment ago... did I say- you could- stop?"

"You ruined it by _talking_ too much."

"Then come back here and _stop me_ or I'll tell the whole school that-"

"That what? Seb Moran is gay? Like they'd care to try and find out. They're too scared of me to ask."

"No. That he takes it up the arse from his roommate because he's too much of a loser to get anyone else to fuck him," Jim said, stone faced.

Seb snarled and grabbed Jim by the throat. "I'm beginning to wonder why I found you so bloody attractive,"

The boy struggled, slowly turning red. "Dunno... my-charm- and- good- looks?"

Seb hung on until Jim started turning purple. "Was more your big, scary brain. Charm and good looks were a bonus. I like you.. .say anything like that to anyone, and you'll find it more...  _difficult_ to live here."

"S-s- _sorry_..." he choked, eyes rolling back in his head as he made his body limp

Seb let go. "I know you're all right, wasn't even holding on that tightly. Believe me, you'd know if I had it in for you," he finished darkly.

Jim's eyes fluttered open, his throat aching. "I- I...  _am_ sorry... Tiger..." he whispered.

The taller boy raised an incredulous eyebrow. "R-really?" he asked, unsure.

Jim nodded in a rare moment of sincerity. "Yes."

Seb both looked and thought hard at Jim before he spoke. "Apology accepted," he finally said. "Now, we should probably get to class before we're late..."

"Not until you give Daddy a kiss."

He snorted. "Daddy?" he asked, but complied, bending and kissing Jim on the mouth.

Jim sighed and wrapped his arms around Sebastian, letting the boy pull him up. "I don't want to go to Psychology. It's _so_ dull."

"I don't know... I bet you could learn _something_. Like how to get into someone's head, see how they think," Seb mused as he held Jim.

The smaller boy slowly started to smirk. "Now I think I might very well be good at that. Got in your head well enough just now."

Seb raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's easy. I'm just the local clod. But if you wanted to get into someone else's head, someone like _you_ , that would take some doing."

"Interesting. Deep words from my twat of a roommate... all right then. Let me up." Seb didn't move. "Let me up."

"Let me up _what_?"

"Let me up now."

"No."

"Let me up soon?"

"Nope."

"Let me up... please."

Seb smiled slowly. "Much better," he murmured, letting his voice rumble through his chest in a pleased fashion as he rolled away and let Jim stand.

Jim whacked him upside the head as he clambered to his feet. "Making me beg... I don't _beg_."

"Wasn't _begging_ , was common courtesy," Seb said, rubbing his injured head before he swept his books into his bag and shouldered it with a shrug.

Jim dropped his robe, obviously flaunting his bare arse at his roommate as he pulled pants and socks from his drawer before taking trousers and a shirt from their hangers in his closet.

Seb blinked and growled softly. "Wanker," he said as he smirked and started to walk from the room.

Jim slapped him on the arse before he got the door open. "Yes, but now I know you _like_ it."

The older boy showed his teeth in a slow grin. "Yeah, and now I know that _you_ like it too."

"Bi-curious, Sebastian."

"Still means you like cock as well as pussy, Jimmy,"

Jim shoved Seb against the door. "Never tried it your way before."

Seb raised an eyebrow. "Hmmm... might have to remedy that. Later, though. I need to actually get to class on time if I don't want to get kicked out."

Jim threw on his shoes and shouldered his bag. "And I just might let you."

There was a flash of raw want and hunger in Seb's eyes. " _Good,_ " he purred into Jim's ear before he shoved him out of the way and strode out of the door to get to class.

Jim followed the bigger boy from the room, smirking to himself. Everything was new that morning. First, Kitten was quite the little temptress in the sack and then Seb's confession... he just might be getting _a lot_ in a very short time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who may not know, a bint is British slang for a dumb, flighty woman. Hey, learn something new every day, that's my motto.


	4. The Play's the Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the second day of class with Professor Holmes...so did any of the students actually do their homework?

Molly grinned all through her Forensic Bio and fairly skipped to her English Lit class. Things had been going so well that she felt bold and sat at the _front_ of the room this time, her face bright and her eyes shining. Sherlock was five minutes early as usual, setting up his briefcase and papers on the desk before checking the room. "Ah, good morning, Miss Hooper."

"Good morning, Professor!" she chirped, not looking up from her book.

"Finished Beowulf I see."

"Mhm... it was a very good read! Do you have any recommendations...  _other_ than Shakespeare?" she asked, grinning cheekily as she marked her place and set her book down.

"Well, if you're looking for some older English Literature, you may find _Pamela_ by Richardson of interest, girls like you generally seem to love Austin, I'm partial to Orwell's _1984_ myself-"

"Oh, I loved _Animal Farm_ ," she said, interrupting.

"Of course, you can never go wrong with Shelley or Stoker either."

" _Frankenstein_ and _Dracula_... both classics and some of my favorites," she mused.

The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched. "It is rare to meet someone of your age still interested in the written word, Miss Hooper."

She smiled somewhat sadly. "Books were the only friends I had growing up," she said softly.

The temperature of the room seemed to rise by five degrees. "Ah... well..."

She looked hard at him. "You too, huh?"

"My family was not the most...  _nurturing_ of groups, and I'm assuming you've had one of my brother's classes already. That combined with my ability to see what others cannot, it did not put me in with the popular crowd."

Molly nodded, understandingly. Then she felt a bit rude. "Ah... I'm sorry for prying," she quickly said, flushing pink.

"I offered the information. That is not prying," he replied as the other students began filing in. "Homework on the front desk and find a seat. Quickly!"

She sighed and watched as her classmates began entering the room but brightened as she saw Jim, followed closely by Seb of course. Her homework was already on the front desk, and she waited for her boyfriend and his best friend to join her.

Jim shoved his papers at Seb to hand in before taking the seat next to Molly and kissing her hard. Molly made a noise of surprise at the greeting. "Well, hello to you too!" she said, breathlessly when he broke it.

He smirked at her. "Just wanted to say how much I enjoyed Tuesday night since I didn't see you yesterday."

She burned a bright red. "O-oh... same," she stammered, biting her lip and tucking her head into her chest, looking pleased.

"Don't be embarrassed, Kitten. You're quite the tigress if you get my drift," he purred, sighing as Professor Holmes shut the door.

"Anyone who comes through that door once it is shut is late and will be required to write two single spaced pages as to why they are late and how they plan to remedy this. Now, if you've all finished your driveling, take out your plays, and turn to Act Two."

"Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four," Molly heard someone mutter under their breath, loud enough so the class could hear and laugh at.

Sherlock froze before slowly turning to face the group. "Second row, blue blouse, eating disorder, what did you say?"

The girl stopped and swallowed. "Just said 'turn to page hree hundred and ninety-four', sir," she stammered.

"Were you _mocking_ me? The truth!"

"Only a little, sir. Was just a laugh..."

"Well, your _laugh_ is a one way trip to Headmaster Lestrade," Sherlock replied tersely, filling out a pink slip of paper. "And this has instructions for you to see the school nurse after your talk with the Headmaster. Again, I will know if you do not follow through." He handed it to her. "Go."

The girl sullenly gathered her things and took the pink slip, walking out. Molly raised her eyebrows but said nothing, choosing to open her book to Act Two instead.

Sherlock strode to the front of the class, snatching his well-read copy from the desk and facing the students, leaning back against his desk as he opened to the correct page as well. "Now, for your homework, you read through the end of Act Two and answered several questions on the nature of this and the meaning of that... dull for you I am sure, but if you are to understand this play in the slightest, the exposition is extremely important. For example, by a show of hands, how many of you think Hamlet is mad?" More than half the class raised their hands, Anderson and Molly included. "And how many think him sane?" Fewer than the remainder, but Jim raised his hand. "And how many either didn't read or don't care?" The rest, including Donovan and Sebastian. "Well, as with any of Shakespeare's plays, it is up to the interpretation of the reader or viewer, but there is more than enough evidence to suggest that he is sane, he is simply struggling with depression and in differentiating the pain and trauma of his father's death with what he feels to be true. His tragic flaw is that he is indecisive or far too rash. _Now_ , there were two speeches in particular I wanted you to really examine and both are in Act Two, Scene Two. One is the 'Piece of Work' speech and the other is the 'Rogue and Peasant Slave' soliloquy. Why do you think, having hopefully actually read it and not Googled the answers, I had you look at those in particular?"

Someone raised their hand and was called on, giving a grandiose speech about how Hamlet was conflicted and tortured, completely missing the point. Molly had to stifle a laugh when she caught Jim rolling his eyes and mouthing the word 'Moron...'

"Stop, I can see we are just going to waste time if you insist on stealing oxygen from the other students in this room." Sherlock thumbed through his copy to check the start and then began to recite, from memory:

"O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!

Is it not monstrous that this player here,

But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,

Could force his soul so to his own conceit

That from her working all his visage wann'd,

Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,

A broken voice, and his whole function suiting

With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing!

For Hecuba!

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,

That he should weep for her? What would he do,

Had he the motive and the cue for passion

That I have? He would drown the stage with tears

And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,

Make mad the guilty and appal the free,

Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed

The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I,

A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,

Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,

And can say nothing; no, not for a king,

Upon whose property and most dear life

A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?

Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?

Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?

Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat,

As deep as to the lungs? who does me this?

Ha!

'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be

But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall

To make oppression bitter, or ere this

I should have fatted all the region kites

With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain!

Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!

O, vengeance!

Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,

That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,

Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,

Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,

And fall a-cursing, like a very drab,

A scullion!

Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard

That guilty creatures sitting at a play

Have by the very cunning of the scene

Been struck so to the soul that presently

They have proclaim'd their malefactions;

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak

With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players

Play something like the murder of my father

Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;

I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench,

I know my course. The spirit that I have seen

May be the devil: and the devil hath power

To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps

Out of my weakness and my melancholy,

As he is very potent with such spirits,

Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds

More relative than this: the play 's the thing-"

"Wherein I'll catch the conscience of a king!" Molly finished, her voice cutting clearly into the rapt silence of the room. She gave a half-smile; she'd had no idea that he could _act_...

Sherlock glanced up, startled at being interrupted. "Well, at least one student did the work. And what do you think it means, Miss Hooper?"

Jim squirmed ever so slightly in his chair. He considered himself the king of the school, and he did have a secret now... second base with his roommate... he didn't like the idea of his precious little pet finding that out.

"Hamlet is wondering how the player, who has no connection with Hecuba, can weep while he speaks of her, even as Hamlet hates his own cowardice and inability to act upon the words of his father's ghost. This soliloquy follows his thought process on how to get his uncle to confess to the murder without using violence. He chooses to use the most dangerous weapon of all: his mind."

Sherlock gave her an incredibly rare smile and a nod of approval. "Full marks for today." He turned to the rest of the class. "That is the type of dedication I expect from each and every one of you. Now, as it would appear some of you slacked off on your work, there is no point in keeping you here, but I will amend the work assigned in your syllabus. You are now assigned _all_ of Act Three to translate into the vernacular, due Tuesday at the start of class. And for those of you who do not know the word 'vernacular,' I believe you know how to use a dictionary. Class dismissed."

Molly beamed as he nodded and felt her insides go fluttery at his smile. She started to pack up her things, trying to get her mind on her work to no avail.

"Teacher's pet."

She flinched as she heard the hissed insult, ducking her head. Just because it didn't happen in his class any more didn't mean that the names and insults had ceased altogether. She sighed as she ignored it, continuing on her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opinions expressed by Sherlock in this chapter on the character of Hamlet are actually my opinions after having studied the play numerous times. I think many people are too willing to jump to the insanity plea, and I don't think that's really it for him at all...but that that's my two cents. Comments are welcome, and I'd love to know if you share my ideas or if you have your own. All quotes from this chapter are from Act Two of Hamlet.
> 
> ALSO: This is a fairly short chapter as the next one is close to 5K words...the drama will truly begin (quite literally) in Chapter 5


	5. Surprise Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a surprise in class today...but will Sherlock cross the line of what's right for a Professor and his students?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on this chapter: The way I've done the lines from the scene, at the end of what would be a line of text from Hamlet, I've given a "/" and then gone right on to the next line...I didn't want the Word Document to be 20 pages long, and it made the chapter a little more compact. If you don't know the play or are having trouble with the language, look up translations of it OR, even better, secure a copy to watch, either the David Tennant or Kenneth Branagh productions; they are the best I've seen to date.

Tuesday came much faster than Sherlock anticipated, and had managed to land himself with a huge pile of papers to grade over the weekend... although that didn't stop him meeting John for drinks on Saturday. Slightly smiling at the night he'd spent with his best friend, Sherlock hurried to his class, anxious to see how the class would take the group activity for the day. He didn't trust a single one of them to do it right, unfortunately, but it had worked incredibly well in his day.

Molly was already in the room, leafing through Act Three, brow slightly furrowed as she focused on the words. She didn't even hear it when the professor entered the room, so absorbed was she in the tome in front of her.

"Early as ever, Miss Hooper?"

She jumped and had to stifle a cry, knocking some of her papers to the floor. "Ah... y-yes," she said, marking her place as she bent to retrieve the fallen items.

"I startled you. Ah... sorry." He set his briefcase down and bent to help her gather the papers. "It would appear you've been _very_ thorough on today's assignment," he remarked, glancing at the sheets and sheets of writing.

"Well, Act Three is quite long, and I didn't want to miss anything," she said with a hint of a smile; she had even gone so far as to include the stage directions. Her hand had felt like it was ready to drop off when she had finished, but she took pride in her work. "Thank you," she said, as he helped pick up her papers. She took the time to examine him quickly up close. He really was gorgeous... that pale skin and those piercing eyes, the dark curls and that rich voice. She swallowed hard and had to consciously prevent herself from blushing. Or, she tried, at least.

"Shall I open a window in here? They really are ridiculous to have the heat on in the beginning of September," Sherlock said, noticing the redness in her face and crossing to crack a window. Molly couldn't tear her eyes away from his slim, yet muscular figure as he walked across the room. She shook herself to clear her head. No no no no...she was happily dating _Jim_. This man was her _professor_. Nothing would ever come of it. Nothing at all.

The class began to straggle in, taking their seats; most of them look infuriated. Molly had to snicker as Seb entered, looking murderous. Jim wasn't looking too happy either; she knew that he didn't care for the professor at all and thought the work was tedious and beneath him.

Sherlock turned back around to the class, rolling up his sleeves. "It's a test day! If you would all start by handing in your homework from the weekend, we shall begin."

Molly passed up her assignment and cracked her knuckles. She was confident that she could do this. After all, she wasn't an English Lit minor for no reason. Sherlock leafed through the papers, satisfied that everyone had turned one in. "I will hand these back to you on Thursday. They will be your first official test of the semester."

She blinked. Oh. Well, that was not what she had expected. Neither had the rest of the class. She could hear the confused murmuring that rippled through the room. Smirking at the reactions of the class, Sherlock spoke, "I have an activity planned for today that I would rather spend with the optimal amount of time as opposed to the frightening lack of recent participation. Get out your plays and open to Act Three, Scene Two, the play within a play."

There was a frantic scrambling for the books and the flipping of pages as people did as he asked.

"Parts are as follows:

Molly Hooper: Ophelia

James Moriarty: Claudius

Donovan: Rosencrantz

Anderson: Guildenstern

Sebastian Moran: Polonius

Madeline Graves: Gertrude

Barty Cage: Player King

Jilian Marcella: Player Queen

Andrew Twig: Lucianus

And the rest of you will be spectators that are attending the play. Any questions?"

Molly's eyes widened. Ophelia. She was _Ophelia_. She felt a curling of dread well up in her gut; even if she only had a few lines, it was still a speaking part, and she didn't care for acting. Then another thought distracted her. Who was playing Hamlet and Horatio? She hadn't heard the two main characters mentioned.

Jim spoke up. "I have a question, Professor. You haven't cast Hamlet or Horatio."

Sherlock glanced at him. "Well, yes, that is a valid point. I myself will be playing the prince and I have enlisted the help of a very good friend of mine to play Horatio... if he ever shows up," he added under his breath, checking the time. Late...

John came skidding into the room. "Sorry- I'm- late!" he gasped. "Had a meeting that ran over, you know how it is. Now, what was it that you needed my help with?" he asked.

"John Watson shall be playing Horatio."

"I'm _WHAT_?!"

The class erupted with giggles. "Oh come on John, where's your sense of _adventure_?" Sherlock teased, handing him a copy of the play

The shorter man scowled at his friend. "Back in my classroom," he grumbled, snatching the book from his friend's hand and resisting the urge to chin the man.

"Now, if you will all arrange the desks so that two of them are left at the top for the thrones and the rest are to the sides, we will begin."

There was a flurry of movement and a scraping of chairs and tables as the furnishings were rearranged. Molly gulped. He was playing Hamlet, she was playing Ophelia. _HE_ was playing _HAMLET_. Ohgodohgodohgod... she took a deep breath, held it, and let it out to calm herself. It was just a class. Only a class. Right...?

Sherlock took his place in front of his desk. "This shall be the area for the players, so those of you designated as such please come forward. John, you stand right there, that's good. And the rest of you in the court can be in various places on the levels. Donovan and Anderson, make sure you have a good vantage point to see me as you are spying on me in this scene. Moran, you should sit at Moriarty's right hand. Miss Hooper, second row if you please with no one in front of you. Hop to it!"

Molly took her place. Seb was at Jim's right hand...how appropriate. She watched as the group sullenly trooped forward; she was trailing slightly behind, arranging herself in the second-row chair, her book on her lap.

"If your directions say enter, you do so. If you are speaking to a specific character, you do so. Don't make me regret giving you the slightest freedom in this class," he said. Glancing over the students and making tweaks where appropriate, Sherlock began. "Speak the speech I pray you as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue..."

John sighed as he followed along. _Can't believe the bloody wanker roped me into this_ , he thought, nearly missing his cue. He stepped up to Sherlock and read his lines: "Here, sweet lord, at your service."

Sherlock turned to him, giving him a smile. "Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man/ As e'er my conversation coped withal."

John read again, "O! My dear lord-"

Seb rolled his eyes. Bla bla bla bla bla...that's all this was. A bunch of dull and dead talk in words that twisted his head around. But he _was_ at Jim's right hand. He had to smile to himself. King Jim. It was befitting.

"Nay, do not think I flatter;/ For what advancement may I hope from thee/ That no revenue hast but thy good spirits,/ To feed and clothe thee?..." Sherlock kept going, finding his stride and looking up more and more as he went; he had forgotten just how much of a thrill acting had been, and this part would always be his favorite. By the end of his speech to Horatio, he set down the play; he didn't need it anymore.

"They are coming to the play; I must be idle:/ Get you a place." He finished, watching John find himself a spot a few rows back.

Molly listened, rapt. Oh, but this man could _act_. His voice was compelling and he threw himself into the part.

Jim glanced down at his copy. Oh, time for him. "How fares our cousin Hamlet?"

"Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish: I eat/ the air, promise-crammed: you cannot feed capons so." Sherlock called easily up to him, his voice carrying in the room.

"I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words/ are not mine." Jim fixed him with an icy stare, easily falling into his role

"No, nor mine now." Sherlock fixed his gaze on Sebastian. "My lord, you played once i' the university, you say?"

Seb started, almost missing his cue. " I did enact Julius Cæsar: I was killed i’ the Capitol; Brutus killed me."

"It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf/ there. Be the players ready?"

Anderson rolled his eyes and said his lines in a monotone. "Ay, my lord, they stay upon your patience."

"Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me."

"No, good mother, here's metal more attractive."

Seb nearly missed his cue again. He leaned over to Jim and half-whispered. "O-ho! Do you mark that?"

Sherlock strode over to where Molly was sitting, half reclining. " Lady, shall I lie in your lap?"

She swallowed, her eyes going large and dark at his nearness. "No, my lord."

He rolled his eyes. "I mean, my head upon your lap?"

"Aye, my lord," she said, flushing both in and out of character. It was a bit hard to think, but she knew the words at least.

He dropped to the ground, laying out with his head in her lap and looking up at her; you could have heard a pin drop. "Do you think I meant country matters?" (1)

Jim's eyes narrowed, easily catching the innuendo... she was _his_ , not the plaything of some snobbish professor. Molly's heart stuttered, stopped, and raced. She had to fight the impulse to run her fingers through the dark curls that were so close that she could smell the shampoo that he used. Just in time, she recalled her line. "I think nothing, my lord." She was going to die, she was certain of it; if not of embarrassment or, now, want, then the girls of the class were going to skin her alive.

He gave her a very slight smirk, moving slightly closer, so lost in his character that he was unaware of everything else, his body filled with Hamlet's energy. "That's a fair thought to lie between maid's legs."

Now Jim was getting pissed; he knew Seb could tell but he didn't care. The bastard was _flirting_ with _his_ girl. Molly was sure that her heart would beat right out of her ribcage. Propriety be damned; she could always say that she was acting in character. She dropped one hand to his hair and began to idly wind her fingers around his curls. They were soft and glossy, and she felt as if she could very well do this forever. "What is, my lord?"

Oh god, Sherlock hadn't been expecting that. It nearly pulled him out of the imaginary world but he kept going. "Nothing."

"You are merry, my lord," she said, adding a soft chuckle.

"Who, I?" he asked with mock confusion

"Aye, my lord," she said, clarifying gently, playing along with Hamlet's sarcasm.

"O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do/ but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully my/ mother looks, and my father died within these two hours."

There was a deafening silence in the room as he said this, as if the true weight of the inability to tell how long his father had been dead really was real and was their world at that moment.

"Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord," she said, her voice now sad, as if she were convinced that he really thought his father was only dead for so short a period of time.

He was on his feet in a second, an intensity in his gaze the he used to pierce all in attendance; _this_ was part of what had earned him an award for his performance during his Uni days, the way he could bounce between all aspects of the character and still come back to a very grounded center. "So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for/ I'll have a suit of sables. O heavens! die two/ months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's/ hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half/ a year: but, by'r lady, he must build churches,/ then; or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with/ the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is 'For, O, for, O,/ the hobby-horse is forgot."

Molly was taken aback as he bounded up and delivered his next speech, completely differing from how he had just been acting. She watched as the players entered and pantomimed, badly, the silent play. She... no, _Ophelia_ , spoke. "What means this, my lord?"

He spun to face her, the words jerking him from watching the (badly) mimed play. "Marry, this is mallecho. It means mischief."

"Belike this show imports the argument of the play," she replied.

"We shall know by this fellow," Sherlock said, gesturing as one of the players came out. "The players cannot keep counsel, they'll tell all," and he was back in her lap again, eager to see the performance.

She started but recomposed herself as he settled once more in her lap, her hands finding his hair again. "Will he tell us what this show meant?"

The next words had a distinct bite as if to say _of course you stupid girl_. "Ay, or any show that you'll show him: be not you/ ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means."

"You are naught, you are naught. I'll mark the play," she retorted.

He settled back against her to watch the few lines of prologue. "Is this a prologue or the posy of a ring?"

"'Tis brief, my lord," she replied carefully, not wanting to offend him or seem wrong and be mocked, as she was earlier. Again, it was no longer Molly; it was _Ophelia_ sitting there, the head of the prince of Denmark in her lap.

He turned to look up at her, his gaze completely capturing hers. "As woman's love," he hissed before turning back to observe the players. The girl flinched, stricken. Oh, but that stung, both her and her character both. She was silent, and she watched as the play within the play unfolded, detailing the murder of Hamlet's father and his mother's remarriage.

When the king and Queen exited, Sherlock was back on his feet, spinning to look up at Gertrude and Claudius. "Madam, how like you this play?"

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Madeline made Queen Gertrude say, her voice dry and emotionless.

Blue eyes flashed. "O, but she'll keep her word."

Finally, Jim could speak, his voice barely containing his rage. "Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in 't?"

Sherlock cocked his head, looking at the boy. "'No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i' the world."

Fists were clenched on his lap. "What do you call the play?"

Sherlock began running around on the 'stage' at this point, gesturing wildly. "The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play/ is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see/ anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: but what o' that? your majesty and we that have free souls, it/ touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung."

Andrew entered as Lucianus, and Sherlock pointed to him. "This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king."

"You are good chorus, my lord," Molly chimed in, giving him praise, not paying any attention to the rage that was barely kept in check in Jim's voice.

Sherlock's head whipped around to stare at her once more. "I could interpret between you and your love, if I/ could see the puppets dallying."

She flinched again. "You are keen, my lord, you are keen," she said softly.

"It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge."

Oh, Jim did not like that _at all_. He was going to have to do something very drastic when he got Molly alone that night, remind her who she _belonged to_.

"Still better, and worse," she replied, running her fingers along the contours of his skull, as if she was trying to pick apart the tangled threads of his mind, to make order of the perceived chaos.

He was back in her lap, body twitching with anticipation and excitement, though his first words served to sting. "So you must take your husbands. Begin, murderer;/ pox, leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come:/ 'the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.'"

The actor spoke his lines next; "Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;/ Confederate season, else no creature seeing;/ Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, With Hecate’s ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,/ Thy natural magic and dire property,/ On wholesome life usurp immediately."

Sherlock was sitting up, gesturing to both Lucianus and to Claudius. "He poisons him i' the garden for's estate. His/ name's Gonzago: the story is extant, and writ in/ choice Italian: you shall see anon how the murderer/ gets the love of Gonzago's wife."

Jim stood, taking his cue from the play he knew well and from the words the Professor was speaking, arranging his face in a slightly composed gaze.

"The king rises," Molly said, noting now the look on James' face.

"What, frighted with false fire?" Sherlock muttered to himself, watching closely.

"How fare my lord?" Madeline could not have sounded less concerned if she'd tried.

"Give o'er the play," Seb ordered, actually concerned. He had never seen Jim look this angry, even though he hid it well.

"Give me some light. Away!" The words were barely controlled, Jim's power over himself the only thing keeping him from shaking visibly. He could hear the various cries of "Lights, lights, lights," before he saw John tap Sherlock on the shoulder, the man seemingly coming out of a trance and checking the clock.

"And with that, I believe we must leave for today. Your syllabus has your homework, and please replace the desks as you leave. Same time Thursday."

Molly shook herself, her eyes clearing as if she was coming out of a dream. She stood and straightened her clothes self-consciously before finding her way back to her seat to collect her things. She could still feel the texture of his hair beneath her fingers.

oOoOo

Jim was the first one out the door, Seb hot on his heels. It felt _so good_ to move and stretch his legs, work off some of the energy he had bottled up inside. Molly followed Jim and Seb, but not before casting one more glance over her shoulder to Prof. Holmes. Their eyes met for a brief instant...and then his friend caught his arm and drew his attention away.

"That- he- I never- I'll kill him..."

"Jim, are you all right?" Molly asked, concerned, catching up with her boyfriend.

He spun to face her, stopping dead in the middle of the hall. "What... the _fuck_... was that?"

"Wh-what? Jim, that was acting, it was just acting," Molly said, confused and now more worried. Jim's eyes were blazing with a manic light that she had never seen before.

"Did you _see_ how he looked at you? _Hear_ the filthy things dropping from his mouth?" He got in her face, his voice going soft. "My room after dinner. Seven o' clock. Do _not_ be late. And don't talk to me the rest of the day. Sebby, come," he said, turning and rushing off.

Molly stopped as he rushed off, hot tears of rebuke welling in her eyes. It really was just _acting_. Why was he so bent out of shape...?

oOoOo

Sherlock swept their papers into his briefcase as the students put the room back together and left, talking very animatedly amongst themselves. He was about to follow them himself when John caught his arm.

"What the hell was that?" John asked Sherlock quietly; he had never seen the man get _that_ into a part before.

"What do you mean," Sherlock said, blinking at his friend, trying to figure out the reason for John's confusion.

"You were getting...  _very_ involved. More so than usual. Might want to exercise a bit more caution," John said, a note of warning in his voice. He sighed as he saw Sherlock's blank look. "With Molly. Everyone noticed how...  _cozy_ you two were being. And people, unfortunately, talk."

"I don't see how what I did was anything of a problem. It was not real as it was for acting, do try to keep up, John," he said, locking the room and heading to his office to retrieve his lunch, his best friend on his heels.

"Don't think acting can explain your head on her lap to her father or those goo-goo eyes you were making," John muttered as he followed his friend.

"John, I was in _character_ ," Sherlock huffed, getting his food and leading the way back down to John's office where they had taken to eating their lunches. "There was nothing truly meant by anything that transpired. I can't even remember half of it."

John made a wry face. "Whatever you say," he finally acquiesced. He knew it was useless trying to argue with him. Even if he _did_ think that there was a bit more of an undercurrent to the two than Sherlock let on.

"Thank you for assisting me today on such short notice, John."

John scowled good-naturedly. "If you had actually let me _know_ what you needed assistance in, I would have gotten you one of the theater club members," he said.

"Yes, I'm sure. That was part of why I didn't say anything."

The shorter man rolled his eyes. "But you _know_ I'm a rubbish actor."

"Only because you are convinced you are. You happen to do quite well in the role of a good friend."

John smiled and clapped Sherlock on the shoulder. "A role that I don't so much play as live, my friend."

Sherlock gave him a very warm smile. "And for that I am always grateful. Now, I suppose you do have to prep; you mentioned something about it yesterday. Just make sure you eat something," he added, teasing.

The doctor groaned. "Nnnrgh... prep..." he sighed. "And yeah, I have my lunch. Although _I_ should be the one lecturing _you_ about eating," he said, smirking.

"Hence why I said it. See you later, John."

"Bye, Sherlock."

The English Professor set off for his office at a brisk pace, finally settling down enough to replay the class in his mind, examining the situation from every angle. He looked through his actions, looked at his character, at the faces he'd noticed and stored away for later but hadn't examined in the moment aside from those he'd been speaking to directly.

oOoOo

Kitty Riley, head of (and reporter for) the school newspaper grinned as she saw the lanky figure of Professor Holmes walking towards his office. The whole campus was positively buzzing with the news about the day's class which apparently involved a very intense scene from Hamlet. The phrase 'inquiring minds want to know' was apt, and Kitty, much like the animal she was named for, had curiosity in abundance. She followed him, intent upon having a word.

Sherlock stopped outside his office, fishing in his pocket for his keys when he heard a noise and turned.

"Hi, Prof. Holmes," the reporter purred. "Was wondering if I could get a quick interview for the school paper?"

His eyes glanced her over, instantly concluding the reason behind her approach. "Not interested."

Kitty blinked taken aback. "But... I..." she tried again. "I want to ask you a few questions," she said, all seduction in her tone dropped, making it professional. So he wasn't one of the ones she could use her body on. Damn...and she had been _practicing_ the art of denial for _so_ long...

"About today's Shakespearean Literature class? Or about your need to prove  yourself worthy of the position you hold?" He opened the door and swept into his office for his lunch, more to please John than anything else

She scowled. "About the class," she bit out.

"I'm sure you've already heard everything there is to tell from your simpering classmates-"

"Yeah, but so much gets lost in the retelling. Might as well hear it straight from the source," she cut in.

"The students handed in their homework, I assigned parts, and we acted out part of Act Three, Scene Two from Hamlet. That's all." He was starting to lose his patience

"But what about your leading lady? I've heard tell that you were getting...  _cozy_ with Molly Hooper," she said, her lips slowly turning up into a smirk.

"Nothing _happened_ in the class. I don't know how many different ways I can phrase that particular sentence. As the characters Hamlet and Ophelia, there is specific territory that they both face. Nothing inappropriate happened in the slightest, Miss Riley."

"Really? No whispering sweet Elizabethan nothings in her ear after class?"

Slowly, Sherlock drew himself up to his full height, giving her a cold, steely gaze. "Clearly, your ears are not working. I have said over and over my side of the tale, and yet you refuse to listen. You want a scoop?" he said quietly, advancing on her slightly, just enough to make her shift in her solid footing. "I'll even give you a _quote_. You. _Repel_. Me."

Kitty was taken aback. The toughest teacher usually quailed under her persistence, but clearly, Prof. Holmes was having none of that. "Fine," she said, snapping her notepad shut. "Thank you for your...  _valuable_ time," she sneered, and walked off.

Glaring at her retreating back, Sherlock dumped his lunch in the bin, downing his entire bottle of water instead before sitting down to prepare for the next class. Only here a week and things were already getting difficult. But he _still_ couldn't see what the big deal was with Miss Hooper... Molly Hooper...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)- Country matters...put the accent on the first syllable and you should get the innuendo
> 
> As promised, drama!!!! Quite literally. We both had this particular scene in mind when we began writing, and my challenge to my co-writer was to see how long we could make it last. I think it's safe to say we've been working on this particular story for the better part of three or four weeks.


	6. What Happened?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a talk with the Headmaster

Molly was at lunch, alone, as usual, but now it was even worse. Word had spread faster than the plague about the scene from Hamlet in her class, and now pointed stares were turned her way, words whispered behind hands, sneers and derisive snorts could even be heard. "Not only is she a rich bitch, she's a slut who sleeps with her professors," she heard someone say, less quietly than he had intended (or not intended) as he walked past. She stared down at her plate, her food suddenly becoming the last thing she wanted to see...  _and_ to top it off, Jim was angry at her for reasons beyond her comprehension. She disposed of her food as a lost cause and went off to prepare for her next class.

oOoOo

Headmaster Gregory Lestrade prided himself on an orderly school; students occasionally got into tiffs and squabbles and the canteen food was rubbish on the weekends, but the academic reputation was flawless. So when he started hearing rumors of a certain English class, he did what he had promised his ward never to do and pulled her from her class for a chat.

Molly went white as she was told, in the middle of a lecture, that the headmaster wanted to see her. Sniggers followed her out of the room and down the hall as she walked to her guardian's office. "You wanted to see me?" she asked, after knocking on the door.

"Not 'Hi,' or 'How are you' or 'Gee, Dad it's nice to see you?'" Greg shook his head teasingly. "Sit down, Molly," he added kindly.

She closed the door and sat, smiling despite her fear. "Hi, Daddy."

"Now, I've been hearing rumors for the past hour from students in the loo and professors in the break room alike. Anything you want to tell me?"

 _Ah. Of course that's what he wanted to hear about_. "It was just a scene from Hamlet. Act Three, scene Two. People are making it out to be a bigger deal than it was," she said, wrinkling her nose. People would see what they wanted to see... no more, no less.

"Yes, but..." Greg looked at her, the girl he'd happily called his daughter for twelve years, "Why are they making it sound like there is something going on between you and Professor Holmes?"

"Because I was playing Ophelia and he was playing Hamlet. In the play, there are clear romantic goings-on between them. Don't worry, Daddy, there's nothing going on. I swear it," she said, solemnly.

The headmaster's forehead crinkled slightly. "I remember Hamlet... that's the play within a play scene?"

She nodded. "That's the one."

"And you are sure there is nothing going on? I remember how much my mates enjoyed learning that scene because of its-ah-sexual undertones..." Something clicked in his head. " _Why_ did he not cast a student as Hamlet if a student were playing Ophelia?!"

She flinched as he raised his voice. "B-because he said... ah... something about not trusting one of us to get it right," she stammered.

"Stupid overgrown _prat,_ " her guardian muttered. "I'll have a talk with him. In the meantime, you keep yourself out of trouble, you hear?"

Molly nodded. "Yes sir," she said miserably. Everything was going to hell, and _she_ was a part of it. So much for things looking up...

As soon as Molly had left, Lestrade checked the class schedule; Sherlock wouldn't be done for another half hour. He'd just have to wait

oOoOo

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

Greg glanced up from his papers. "Yes, I did. Take a seat," he said brusquely, indicating to the chair in front of his desk.

"You know I prefer to stand, Lestrade."

" _Sit_ ," he barked. He wasn't very pleased with the man in front of him, not after hearing those rumors of Molly and Sherlock being involved; even though he knew the rumors were groundless - he trusted Molly, she was a good girl,- it didn't make either of their lives at school easier.

There was something in the man's voice that made Sherlock sit, eyeing him with curiosity until... "Ah, yes, my class today."

"Yes, your class today. Why, on God's green earth, did you not cast students for the role of Horatio and Hamlet? Or just read the parts aloud from your seats? To go so far as _acting_ that bit out? It's wholly inappropriate!" Greg said, pinning Sherlock with a glare.

"Because the normal, methodical, textbook approach was getting about as much out of them as squeezing a dry rag and expecting to get water," Sherlock replied immediately.

Greg sighed and rubbed his temples. "Sherlock, you're a brilliant man and a great teacher, I'm sure, but having a female student acting out a part laced with sexual innuendo with a male professor is possibly one of the worst ideas you could have had, _especially_ considering that you cast my daughter as Ophelia!"

"She was the only one who could handle the part. And this particular scene could include the entire class in participation. That _is_ what I'm supposed to be doing, isn't it? Getting my students involved in the material and inspiring them to learn? Or is that just bollocks they force down our throats in Uni? And she's your ward, not your flesh and blood child."

"You should have chosen a different scene. And she _is_ my daughter. I was there when she was born, was named godfather at her christening, and I spent twelve years raising her as my own. Even if we're not blood related, she is _still_ my child," Greg said, keeping his voice carefully controlled. He was beginning to wonder why he had let Mycroft sweet-talk him into letting his brother take his place while he was on sabbatical...

Sherlock clenched his fists, growing more and more frustrated. "First John, then Kitty Riley, and now you. Why does no one seem to think I can handle this and that _nothing happened_?!"

"Because not everyone is like you, Sherlock! People see what they _want_ to see, and apparently, what they saw was you _flirting_ with Molly! I know that nothing happened because I trust her, but the rest of the school thinks differently," he snapped. If Kitty Reilly had gotten a hold of this, then he knew that it wasn't going to die down as fast as he would have liked.

A vein was pulsing in the professor's temple as he bit his tongue and took a deep breath. "Then I shall return to the... approved method of teaching my classes for the rest of my tenure here." He hated that he was being forced into it, but he truly did not see any other way to rectify the situation since he was not being heard.

"Good! Thank you," Greg said, running his hands through his hair. He sighed. "I'm sorry that it had to come to this," he said after a moment's pause. "But it comes with the territory of headmaster."

"As I am well aware," Sherlock said, his voice clipped as he left. "Good day, Lestrade."

Greg sighed again as Sherlock shut the door a little more forcefully than he should have as he left his office; this was proving to be a bigger headache than he'd ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know this one was short. But don't worry, the next one is about three times as long


	7. You Belong To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim needs to reassert his ownership of Molly...but someone else is incredibly keen to own the young genius.

Jim was laying on his bed, shaking with restless energy; he glanced at his watch. "Sebby, leave."

"Jimmy, what has you so upset? I've never _seen_ you so pissed," the taller boy said as he stood.

His lip curled slightly at the nickname. "I'm going to show her who she belongs to: _me_ , not some prissed up Professor."

Seb raised his eyebrows and backed slowly out of the room. He felt a flash of pity for the girl, muttering "Good luck" to her under his breath as she passed him, though he doubt she heard it. Molly walked hesitantly into Jim's room, feeling nervous again; the last time she had seen him, he had been furious.

"Shut the door." He knew he was barely in control, and he had to be careful not to drive her away; it was a dangerous game he intended to play, but she had been flirting with another man... a professor... someone who was not _him_.

Molly did as she was told. The air in the room was charged, and not in a good way. She swallowed hard. "Jim...?" she said, her voice hesitant.

"You unashamedly flirted with another man today. A professor no less," he said, not looking at her. "In front of me."

 _Again_ with the accusations! "Jim, I wasn't flirting. That was how the part was written."

He sat up and looked at her, his dark brown eyes piercing her, reading everything. "And yet... you harbor...  _feelings_ for him."

"I... what?" she stammered, taken aback. Sure, she thought he was attractive and a good actor, but that was it...

"Buried deep... you seem to forget that I can _see._ "

"Jim, I would never be unfaithful to you, I promise," she said. She was beginning to feel a little frightened now. Gone was the sarcastic, sometimes sweet boy that she had fallen in love with. This side of him was darker and it set her on edge.

He saw her fear. _Good, she was seeing sense_. His expression cleared and he opened his arms. "Come here, Kitten. It's been a very long day for you, hasn't it?"

She looked at him for a moment, then slowly walked into his arms. "Yes, it has..." she said, now more than a little confused. One minute, he was looking at her with rage as black as a thunderhead, and now he was being... kind and sweet? He could change so fast that it made her head spin. Jim pulled her down on the bed,  tucking her under his arm with her head on his shoulder. Then, suddenly getting an idea, shifted so that her back was against the wall and he was lying with his head in her lap. Molly absently started carding her fingers through his hair, lost in thought. So much had happened...

Jim closed his eyes, purring and nuzzling her stomach. "I can see why he liked it so much," he muttered to himself.

"Who liked what?" she asked, half-catching his words, smiling as he nuzzled into her like a cat.

"Professor Holmes; he nearly melted when you did this to him."

She stiffened and felt that damnable blush come to her cheeks again. "I'm sure he was only acting," she said, perhaps clutching Jim's hair a little tighter than she should have.

"Nooooo, it wasn't. Hard not to either... fingers are just _so_ talented." He removed one hand from his hair and popper two of her fingers in his mouth, sucking and licking as he looked up at her, almost giving her puppy dog eyes. She shuddered and gasped as that clever tongue of his worked around her supposedly talented fingers, feeling her eyes flutter shut.

"Look at me when I'm working on you," he ordered, pulling her fingers out of his mouth, "You're _mine_." he whispered.

Her eyes met his, and she felt her breath catch in her throat as he whispered his ownership of her. Not knowing what else to do, she nodded.

"Give us a kiss, Kitten. Say you're sorry for making Jim doubt you," he whispered, continuing to play with her fingers.

"I... I'm sorry," she murmured softly before pressing a kiss to his mouth: a chaste, apologetic one.

" _Very_ good," he whispered before moving faster than she could follow, pinning her beneath him on his beg and kissing her hard, fingers stripping her as fast as he could manage

She made a muffled sound of shock as he kissed her hard, tearing at her clothes as he kept her pinned to the bed. From angry to cuddly to _wanting_ ; there were just so many facets of her lover that she had yet to learn. He had them both bare in less than a minute, fingers tearing at the condom wrapper. "Stroke me," he ordered as the blasted thing tore in half and he had to get a new one.

Molly felt a flare of want rip through her and she trailed her hands down to curl around him, gently squeezing and tugging. Jim's eyes closed involuntarily, forgetting about the foil wrapper in his fingers for a few moments as he felt her hand around him. "Clever fingers _indeed_ ," he murmured before opening the protection and rolling it on himself. She bit her lip and looked up at him, trailing her touch up his abdomen as he busied his hands with the condom.

Looking down at her, his lip curled and he thrust into her, not as carefully as their first or even second time, but a little faster and harder, just to remind her that she was sleeping with _him_ , belonged to _him_ , no one else. She cried out as he roughly entered her and began setting a faster pace, as if he was branding her as his. Molly tried to keep up, but he was making it difficult for her to reciprocate.

He lowered his lips to her neck, gathering her in his arms as he rolled and snapped his hips; he just wanted to get off, he noted absently as he sucked a spot on her neck. Had he really grown bored so quickly? Or was it the prospect of another, different person that he was suddenly imagining in his arms. Molly keened as he rolled his hips and stifled a moan. His mind seemed elsewhere, though, and that irked her. She leaned up and bit his throat, setting her teeth in it a little harder than usual.

He snapped instantly back into himself, growling. "Oooooooh, _yessss_ , such a naughty girl... headmaster's daughter screwing the king of the school...but you love it..."

She blanched a bit and had to refocus; he was beginning to make her sound like the rumors said about her were true. She moved her mouth from his neck to his shoulder, biting even harder, sure that she was going to leave a decent bruise, but now she found that she didn't really care. She hooked her fingernails into claws and dragged them down her back, a sort of passive-aggressive punishment.

"Harder," Jim groaned, his hands slipping lower on her back and using the new leverage to continue grinding her against him; he knew he could finish soon.

Molly obeyed, clawing harder, biting harder...and recoiling when she felt her teeth break the skin. "Oh my god, I'm-" she was about to say "I'm sorry" when he did _something_ that made her vision go white. She pulsed and shivered around him, his name on her lips as she rode out her pleasure, clinging tighter than ever.

It was her teeth, her perfect, white teeth that were painted pink with his blood that drove him deeper, rubbing enough against her to break the girl and send her flying over the edge, himself not far behind.

"Oh God, _Jim_..." she panted, her eyes rolled back in her head as she came down slowly from her peak. She squeezed her still-spasming inner muscles, willing him to finish as well.

Dropping a hand to her, it only took a few well-practiced strokes and tweaks, his own teeth falling to her shoulder where a mark would just barely be visible above her collar. She came _again_ , crying wordlessly as he stroked her, biting her hard enough to leave a nice mark. She was panting, her heart was racing like a prized engine, and she could see stars behind her eyelids.

"There... are you all better now? Not so worried anymore? Because none of the stories are true as long as you're with me. I can protect you, Kitten."

She nodded, her brain still too pleasure-fogged to form a coherent sentence. The way he had said it, though... something made the words prickle along her spine.

Patting her on the head, Jim pulled out and took care of cleaning them up before tugging on pajama bottoms. "I'm afraid I have to kick you out tonight; Sebby won't take kindly to me locking him out of our room again, and I am trying to stay alive here," he added, a teasing lilt to the end of his sentence.

"All right," she said, gathering her things and getting dressed, wincing slightly as the fabric of her shirt brushed against the now-large bruise on her shoulder and neck. "Goodnight, Jim," she murmured, kissing him one last time.

"'Night, Kitten. Sebby should be on his way back now. Give him the all clear, would you?"

She nodded. "Will do, Boss," she said, slightly sarcastic and joking, giving him a half-smile.

A smirk of satisfaction and pleasure played over his lips. "Might have you start calling me that in bed, Kitten," he murmured.

She allowed a sultry smile to grow on her face. "Really? And why should I do that...  _sir_?" she asked, voice slightly softer, meant to entice.

"Because that's exactly what I am," he said quietly, sauntering over to her to whisper in her ear, "Your _Boss_."

Molly shivered and bit her lip again, feeling goose bumps rise on her skin. "Yes, _sir_ ," she breathed.

"Now, go. Have to let my Tiger back in. Big cat needs his beauty sleep."

"And a Magpie needs to go to roost," she said, almost absently. Jim often put her in mind of a bird, with his sharp, dark eyes and his quick movements.

He managed not to make any sign he heard her, opening the door and, lo and behold, Sebby was there waiting very impatiently. "Kitten was just leaving," Jim said, nudging Molly out the door

"Hi Seb... Bye Seb," she said, smiling as she left. The taller boy raised an eyebrow, drumming his fingers against his thigh.

Jim let the blonde into the room and locked the door behind him. "All right. You clearly want to speak."

"When are you going to get rid of her?"

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Blunt as ever. And _why_ would I want to do that?"

"Because I don't share."

Jim's eyebrows went up, mouth forming an 'oh.' "And _what_ gives you the impression that you own me?"

Seb walked forward until the smaller boy was against the wall. "My room... my stuff. We share a room, and here you are."

"Have you really forgotten that I offered to _let_ you room with me at the end of last term?"

Seb snarled. "I live here, despite you _letting_ me room with you. Ergo, _my_ room."

"Quite a territorial Tiger, aren't you?"

He growled and showed his teeth. "Always."

"Well then, if you're _soooooo_ territorial, why don't you _show_ me?" Jim taunted, shoving past Moran to lie down on his bed.

Seb's eyes went dark and he purred. He cocked his head to one side and snickered. "Wonder if you should be called Tiger now, seeing as you have the stripes to go with the name," he said, gesturing to the marks Molly had left on Jim's back.

Jim smirked to himself. "What can I say? I like it _rough_." Settling on his mussed sheets and duvet, he looked up at his roommate. "I know how desperate you are to sleep with me, but I have quite a... how shall I say this..track record of lovely ladies that goes all the way back through secondary school. What's to say you won't' just be another notch in my hitching post?"

"And what's to say you're not another notch on mine? And you'll need a new hitching post, _Jimmy_. I'm certainly not a lovely lady," Seb snorted derisively.

"Look like one to me," the boy teased.

Seb raised an eyebrow and shucked off his shirt, displaying the rippling muscles that lay underneath. "Whatever you say," he said, smirking as he turned away to find something else to do, just to let Jim twist and writhe a bit.

Jim was almost unaware of the drool pooling in his mouth. "I was thinking about you before... when I was getting off with her."

Now both blonde eyebrows went up, and Seb had to clear his throat. The thought of Jim deep in Molly, her panting in pleasure, him moaning and thinking of _him_...his trousers tightened and the room seemed to heat up by several degrees. "Well, did I help or hurt the situation?" he said, keeping his voice carefully even.

"I almost moaned your name...but I did manage to get off on the idea. So, both." Jim kept his voice casual as if he were discussing the weather or a test.

Seb shuddered and crossed the room slowly. "Care to make the idea a reality?" he purred, smirking, dropping his hands to let his thumbs rest in the waistband of his jeans. Jim swallowed. Hard. His shag before hadn't _really_ been all that satisfying.

"Oh? Tiger got your tongue?" Seb asked, mockingly. "If you don't want to, then I'm sure I can find something else to occupy my time..."

Jim reached out and grabbed Sebastian's wrist.

"Yes...?"

"I- I do. Want it."

" _Good_ ," Seb said, before claiming the smaller boy's mouth with his own, forcing his lips open and darting his tongue inside, tasting him. Jim squeaked, eyes closing as Sebastian took charge. Usually, Jim was the one who dominated everything, who had absolute control; no one had _ever_ had power over the young man before

Seb curled his fingers through the fine dark hair and bit hard on Jim's lower lip. "Don't just lie there like some sort of plank," he gasped when he broke for air.

"What do you expect me to do if you're taking charge like that? I couldn't even _think_ -"

"Oh? You, the big scary brain, not being able to think. That's new," Seb said, running his hands down Jim's torso and tugging lightly on the waistband of his pajama pants.

The boy whimpered, goose bumps popping up all over his body. "Fucking hell, _Sebby_ -"

"Hm? Something that you _want_?" Seb asked, smirking. He was going to make him ask for it, just because he _could_.

Jim's head snapped around to look at him, eyes burning and black. "Yes. I want you to take. What. You. Want."

Seb's eyes went wide and _dark_. He snarled and claimed the smaller boy's mouth with his own, his hands fully going down Jim's pants now, grinding against him before he fumbled with his own trousers, desperate to get them off. The younger boy's eyes widened as he saw Seb's blue-grey ones change and then the larger boy was _everywhere_. Jim attempted to be helpful and lent Seb his fingers to pull his trousers down, Jim's pajama bottoms halfway down his hips.

" _God_ I want you so bad," Seb panted as he freed them both from the confines of their clothing, pausing to kiss his way down Jim's neck and nip at it.

"Yes, Tiger, I can tell." Even as aroused as he felt, Jim still managed to sound bored and sarcastic, even if for no other reason than to piss his roommate off. Seb snarled as Jim sounded _bored_ ; he'd soon fix that. The blonde trailed his fingers down to grasp Jim and squeeze, doing the same to himself.

The boy arched off the bed, gasping and squeaking as his eyes flew open again. Seb looked amused.

"What is so fucking funny?"

"You _squeak_. It's actually pretty adorable."

Jim lunged up and bit the other boy's nose. "And now?"

Seb wrinkled his nose. "Still adorable, but let _me_ do the biting," he said, his voice low as he set his teeth into Jim's shoulder and rutted against him.

A stab of pleasure shot through Jim's body when Seb dropped his voice, the grinding doing amazing things to him. Well, even if he were bi to start, he might very well end up gay. Who knew? "Can't you do more?" he whined.

"Patience, Magpie, patience," Seb said. He grabbed the lube off the bedside table and slicked two of his fingers up, pressing one into Jim slowly, letting him get used to it.

"Stop calling me-" Jim's retort was cut off as he groaned, trembling at the invasion. He was instantly thinking about all of the women he'd topped, how it must feel to have something entering them; now he knew... and he knew it would be nothing compared to Seb's _very_ well endowed cock that he could see between his legs.

"I'll call you what I _want_ to call you. I'm in charge for now, remember?" Seb said, slowly adding another finger, waiting for Jim to adjust again, then curling them slightly.

"N-n-n-n-nooooo," Jim whined, not wanting to give up the power, but his moans just made Sebastian grin wider. The dark haired boy thrashed, digging his fingernails into Seb's biceps and _dragging_ leaving raised, red stripes down his arms.

"Oh? What was that?" Seb said, grinning, as he drove his fingers a little deeper and brushed Jim's prostate.

"FUCK!!!" Jim managed to turn his scream into a very high squeak as his toes curled hard enough to make his foot cramp.

The larger boy outright chuckled at Jim's reaction and withdrew his fingers slowly, rolling on a condom. "You ready?" he asked as he slicked himself up and positioned himself at Jim's entrance.

Jim glared up at him, breathing coming back down to normal, although he felt very empty. "I'm quite a screamer. You sure you want the whole campus to know what you're doing? I suppose if people found out right away, Kitten would make things _very_ difficult for you." He gestured to his hickey. "She does love to mark me-"

Seb scowled and took a clean sock from the bedside table, shoving it into Jim's mouth to stifle any cries. "There. Put a sock in it," he said, smirking at his bad joke. He pressed in slowly, allowing himself to just barely breach the other boy.

Jim screamed hard into the sock because _fucking hell it hurt_. He knew he was tensing up and his fingers grabbed at Seb's back. Like it or not, he was genuinely scared in that moment, scared more of the fact that he wanted it so bad than that it hurt. He liked pain, even got off on it, but he _hated_ that this other man, this older _boy_ could make him feel such a strong want.

"Shhhh, sh sh sh..." Seb panted into his ear. " _Relax_. You'll hurt yourself if you tense."

Pale fingers found their way into blonde curls, stroking and petting the surprisingly soft locks actually calming him down as he relaxed his muscles, tension draining from his body before he nodded. The larger boy nearly purred as Jim stroked his hair. When he got the go-ahead, he slowly pressed in more, groaning as he sunk in all the way to the hilt. He was breathing hard and biting his lip... good _God_ but Jim was tight. He had to fight to not start thrusting because he knew if he did, it would hurt his lover more.

He'd never felt so full, so sated. _This_ was exactly what he'd been missing earlier, what he finally realized he wanted. He got a good grip on the blonde curls and regretted that the gag made it impossible to kiss the boy. They'd just have to have a really long snog afterwards. He curiously rolled his hips, gasping at the feeling of Sebastian moving inside him.

"D'you think you could not scream if I take the gag out?" Seb asked hoarsely as Jim rolled his hips up. Not waiting for a nod or a shake of the head, he pulled back and sank into him again. And again. And again, setting up a slow rhythm.

He couldn't stop gasping, moaning, keening; sounds were torn from him as Sebastian moved, fucking him ever so tenderly .

"Never... thought... this'd... happen..." Seb panted between slow thrusts, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Jim's neck and chest. Jim let his eyes close and the sensations devour him, rocking up to meet Seb now that he was getting the sense of it.

Finally unable to stand it any longer, Seb began to pick up the pace, moving slightly faster. He bit down on the skin of Jim's sternum, his hands fisted in the dark brown hair of the boy beneath him.

"Sebbbbbyyyyy-" Jim moaned around the gag, his arse beginning to burn as Seb started driving into him. He loved the feeling of Seb's teeth on his skin even more than he had Molly's. Seb groaned and _growled_ at the sound of his name on Jim's lips, going back to short, deep thrusts, the tip of his cock hitting Jim's prostate.

"YESYESYES!" Jim shrieked, the sock soaked with his saliva as his body shook with waves of pleasure. "Close..." he mumbled, leaning up into Seb, trying to get as close as he could. The blonde took the opportunity and ripped the gag out of Jim's mouth, driving himself home and moving one hand down to stroke Jim's cock, feeling himself at the edge as well.

All of the sound stopped in Jim's throat, the muscles refusing to work properly as he climaxed in a soundless scream, crushing his mouth against Sebastian's. Seb took the breath out of Jim with a searing kiss as they both came, him with a near sighing moan of the smaller man's name as he pulsed and shuddered, feeling his lover do the same.

Still holding him extremely close, Jim sank back against the pillows, more sexually satisfied than he had ever been in his life as he hooked trembling legs around Seb's waist to keep him from pulling out. Seb was surprised as Jim kept him close, but decided not to question it, going soft inside of his lover as he nuzzled his sweat-damp skin, sighing contently.

He worked his mouth for a moment as his brain reconnected his throat. "F-f- _fucking hell_..." he said hoarsely, hair sticking to his forehead.

The larger boy laughed, the rare sound falling from his lips as he was in a relaxed and unguarded state. He slowly slid out of Jim and disposed of the condom. "Well?" he asked, smirking and arching an eyebrow as he rolled off of him.

Chocolate eyes glazed over in total bliss. "You can do that _anytime_..."

Seb purred and growled at the same time. "I'll hold you to that. You are _mine_ now... just as I am yours."

The pale cheeks blushed furiously. "But I don't-"

Seb shut him up in the best way he knew how: a kiss. He pulled the covers over them as he felt chilled, the sweat now drying on their skin in the aftermath of their passion. Jim held the other boy tightly as he stole the words from his lips, teeth and tongues and mouths working together and _ohgoodgodabove_ did Sebastian Moran know how to fucking _kiss_.

The taller blonde broke the kiss and sighed. He didn't like to admit it, but he enjoyed cuddling; he wormed his way next to Jim, soaking up his body heat and stroking his fingers absently through his hair. "So, what do we do about _her_ now?" he thought aloud.

"Don't think this changes anything. I'm still keeping her."

Seb scowled. "Why?"

"You know how you keep saying I belong to you?"

"Yeah, what of it...?"

"She belongs to me."

Seb made a face. "I see. But I don't _like_ it."

"You don't _have_ to like it, but as long as she's useful, she's mine. It means I'm dating the Headmaster's daughter, that the little chit has protection from the slanders of her classmates... not that I care about _that_ , but it makes her so much more agreeable, and it will also get me closer to this new Professor. He tried to take what belonged to me," he added darkly as he curled up in a ball for Seb to hold.

The taller boy rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Jim. "It w _as_ only acting, you know," he said.

"Only a _true_ actor would understand that the basis for any well done performance is a seed of truth, truth of feeling. It would have been a different performance if he had felt nothing at all."

Seb raised an eyebrow. "Huh... so she's hot for teacher and _he's_ hot for her. Who knew?"

"She's known him a _week_. I've been dating her since _January_. She's been hot under the collar for me since I first smiled at her, but her loyalty seems to be changing awfully fast. Oh, add that to the list of reasons why we can't ditch her yet. I have to see if it's just a phase or if she's _really_ falling for him."

"Fickle is a woman's heart," Seb said, gesturing grandiosely and sniggering.

"Shut your fucking face."

"Fine. Now shut up and go to sleep... I'm tired," Seb said, yawning hugely as he rolled over to face the wall, smiling as he shut his eyes.

"No. Stay awake Sebby," Jim said, poking him.

"Whyyyyy?" he whined, rolling back over to face the younger boy.

"Because you stopped cuddling me," Jim pouted

Seb blinked. "Is that it?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around his lover. "Never took you for the cuddly type."

Jim kissed one of Seb's nipples before biting it. "Tell no one."

He arched and gasped as Jim bit his nipple. "Secret's safe with me," he murmured, burying his face in Jim's hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"Good," the boy mumbled, curling up and pulling Seb around him like a blanket. "Oh... and you should probably know... I _love_ a good morning wank... wanna help?"

Seb curled his lips into a smile. "Oh fuck yes I do..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one will be up very shortly, it was mostly a check-in with other characters, and we will return to your regularly scheduled smut and drama shortly.


	8. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some private thoughts from our English Professor and the Headmaster's daughter...

Sherlock sat back in his chair at the desk in his flat, rubbing his eyes as he tiredly set aside the papers he'd been grading since he'd gotten back...  _seven_ hours before. There were only two that stood out from the rest: Jim Moriarty and Molly Hooper. No surprise there.

He stood and dropped the graded papers into his briefcase before heading to the bathroom and washing his face in ice cold water. Everyone had overreacted to his lesson and his choices that day even though he really couldn't see what all the fuss had been about. They were all practically adults, they could handle that sort of thing, although evidence did seem to point to the contrary... even _John_ had been worried about him.

He shook his head, changing into pajama bottoms from his rumpled work clothes and setting his alarm for five as he curled up on his bed. He may as well try to force some rest into his body, even if only for his best friend. The man had always been able to tell when he'd been up all night and when he'd actually slept, and John was always in a better mood if Sherlock had done the latter. So there he was, trying in vain to get a few hours sleep when all he could think about was the scene, the play, a play and a part he'd missed more than he had ever let himself realize, and the girl that seemed to be the center of everything.

oOoOo

It was nearly two in the  morning, and Molly Hooper still wasn't asleep. She was pacing her room, and thinking, always thinking. How was she going to face class on Thursday? Should she skip? Should she drop it? Her eyes turned steely. No. Doing either of those things would mean giving up, accepting defeat. Running away. And she was no coward, even if she were timid at times. She would go to class with her head held high, acting as if nothing had happened. She still had Jim to help her, anyway.

That brought her pacing to a halt. Jim. He had been almost frightening tonight in his intensity... both in his temper and in his lovemaking. Was he really good for her after all? She shook her head. Now was not the time to be doubting her relationship with her lover. She sighed and checked the clock. 2:18. She really needed to go to bed if she wanted to be well rested for her classes tomorrow. "All right, Molly... time to rest that brain and get it ready for the new day," she murmured to herself, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She readied herself and crawled under the covers, snuggling into the pillows and chasing the elusive creature called 'Sleep.'


	9. Observation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Sherlock had to have known he'd be observed in class after Tuesday's fiasco.

Sherlock got the news that the Headmaster would be observing his Thursday classes over breakfast that morning... well, over coffee and a piece of plain toast as he dressed. It had taken every ounce of self control he'd possessed to not yell into the phone about rights and justice and fairness, but he knew he wouldn't last in his job if he messed this up. So off to the university he went, attempting to steel himself for the drudgery that was sure to greet him in the school.

Molly swallowed as she walked into the classroom, five minutes early, as usual. She took her normal spot in the back of the room and opened her book, brushing her hair over her shoulder. She had left it down today (overslept and was nearly late to her first class, so she didn't have time to put it up). She started reading, not noticing (as always) when the professor walked into the room.

Sherlock set the huge stack of graded tests on his desks, noticing Molly's presence but not saying anything. Time to keep a cool and professional classroom... especially when Headmaster Lestrade chose that precise moment to walk in. The girl glanced up and went as white as a sheet when she saw her father walk in. Of _course_ he'd be sitting in on the class, especially after all the fuss that had gone on earlier in the week. Great. Just great. She buried her nose deeper into the book, barely acknowledging the fact that Prof. Holmes was there as well.

"Good morning, Headmaster. There is a seat in the back of the room just for you," Sherlock said, shaking his hand coolly and gesturing up where Molly was seated. _Just get the pleasantries over with._ "Good morning, Miss Hooper."

"Good morning, Professor Holmes," she replied, not looking at him. If nothing else, she could at least _act_ like she was in some semblance of control. She smiled at her father as he walked up the aisle and sat three seats away from her even though she wanted nothing more than to kick him out of the room. The other students began to file in, one at a time.

"Homework on the front desk and take your seats. Open to Act Three Scene Four: Polonius's Death and Hamlet's discussion with his mother. Now!"

There was a flutter of movement as the class scrambled to do as he said, depositing their new homework, collecting their old papers, and leafing to the correct page, hissing whispers in the background as eyes found first their professor, then Molly and then... the headmaster.

Sherlock took up the tests and began passing them back out to the students. "I must say, that of the work submitted in this class, most of it was rather horrendous. Only two students received full marks for the assignment and will be exempt from tonight's homework assignment: Jim Moriarty and Molly Hooper. Congratulations to you both," he said, handing their papers back before returning to the front of the room. "The rest of you seriously need to step up your performance in this class or you will not succeed, and I will not hesitate to fail you. Do the work, or you will not pass. Is that understood?"

There was a rumbling of assent as the class responded, people wincing or looking outraged as they got their tests back. Molly had to try very hard not to beam at being exempt from the homework, a load off of her mind, indeed. Jim leaned over, pulling her hair to the right side of her face and casually baring the mark on her neck, knowing full well her father was three seats down on her left before kissing her ear. "Well done, Kitten," he whispered.

She stiffened and blushed as Jim showed affection so freely; but it was the love-bite that she was worried about. She'd been lucky and no one had noticed it...but _now_...her father was observing and the professor was looking at her... wait, he was _looking_ at her, staring almost like she was a specimen under a microscope. It was only for a brief moment, but she still felt rather shaken.

Sherlock had cast his eyes around the class to make sure everyone was on the right page when he saw the mark on Molly's neck. He didn't understand why he suddenly felt the urge to so reveal it to her father and separate her from the boy currently kissing her ear. "Mr. Moriarty, if you can't keep your hands off Miss Hooper you can either find another seat or leave the room. I'm sure Mr. Dimmock would love to see you in the discipline office since the Headmaster is already here."

Molly's face burned crimson and she sunk into her seat, mortified. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, her father glaring at Jim, Prof. Holmes, and... her. She knew that she was in trouble and wouldn't put it past her father to bring her home tonight.

Jim pulled away, shooting daggers with his eyes at the professor. "I'm quite fine where I am, thanks," he said.

"Then keep your hands to yourself," Sherlock replied before taking up the play. "Now, would someone care to enlighten us as to the importance of Polonius's death and Hamlet's subsequent conversation with his mother? You've all read through Act Four by now, so you know what the results of that one event are."

Molly was vaguely aware of Jim saying something brilliant in response to the question, still reeling about how her father had surely seen the hickey on her neck. She snapped out of it just in time to hear Jim explaining how Hamlet held his mother partially responsible for his true father's death.

"Yes, correct, Mr. Moriarty. You are amazingly concise when you aren't fondling your girlfriend," Sherlock quipped, thumbing through the play. "Now, being young minds with a distinct obsession with carnal pleasures, did you all catch what Hamlet bid his mother do? Anyone?"

"To not take her husband, his uncle, to her bed," Molly said, her voice quiet, face still burning. She found herself hating her professor at the moment for calling so much attention to her and Jim. He never had before; why did he feel the need to do so now?

"Correct Miss Hooper. Now, Anderson," the boy jumped, spinning around in his desk. Sherlock's eyes narrowed, "Now that you've decided to join us, who or what did Hamlet see that prompted him to do so in the first place?"

"Because... ah... um..." Anderson floundered as the question was put to him, clearly not knowing how to respond.

"Donovan?"

"The appearance of his father's ghost," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Correct, although you may want to set your sights for someone a little brighter," he said, heading forward. He never said these comments in a mean way, they just spouted from his mouth naturally. "Now, in terms of 'the fair Ophelia'," he said, "what becomes of her?"

"She fancies her professor," someone said from one of the corners.

"Mr. Moran!" Sherlock's face was carefully controlled but a pure anger burned in his eyes. He took his pad of pink slips and wrote out one. "Since the Headmaster saw and heard you little comment, take this to Mr. Dimmock. A month of detentions should help sort you out. Move."

Seb sauntered up and took the pink slip and swaggered out; he didn't regret it, not in the slightest. Molly was fervently wishing she could disappear, her eyes now bright with unshed tears. "She goes mad," she said, breaking the long, uncomfortable silence that settled across the room.

"Yes, she does, and then she drowns herself in the river," Jim added, feeling a mixture of things at seeing Molly so bent out of shape. His words from the night before came back to him... he _had_ promised to protect her from her classmates, but did that really have to include Sebastian?

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, and yes. Now, why does King Claudius exile Hamlet to have him murdered?"

"Because Hamlet has found out the truth; that Claudius is the murderer," Molly said, finally picking up some enthusiasm.

"Correct again. Now, who's return causes a stir among the people of Denmark? Possibly someone other than Miss Hooper this time? I believe you all know she has done her homework and don't think you can hide behind her intelligence. Mr. Twig?"

"Uhhhh... Ferdinand's?" Twig replied, screwing up his brow.

"Incorrect. Miss Graves?"

"L... oh, dammit, it's hard to pronounce... Laertes?"

"Correct, but try it Lay-AIR-tees, next time," he replied. "And what does Claudius do in response to the boy's accusations and threats? Miss Marcella?"

"Sets him on the idea of killing Hamlet instead of him... Claudius."

"Very good. See? All you have to do is participate. Most of you _have_ done at least the reading assignments. Now, take the nest fifteen minutes to write a reaction and analysis of Ophelia's breakdown in the two scenes where you see her mad in Act Four, how her words relate to the previous action of the play as well as how they foreshadow her demise. When you are finished, hand it in and you may leave."

Papers came out and pens started scribbling madly away. Molly went to work, but her heart wasn't in it. The Headmaster rose from his seat, dropping a slip of paper on Molly's desk before approaching Sherlock at the front of the room. "My office at the end of the day," he said before leaving.

Molly eyed the slip of paper with dread, hardly daring to open it.

_We are talking tonight. You are not to stay in your dorm. Meet me in my office at 5pm. no later. -Headmaster Lestrade_

Her heart sank. She knew she was in trouble; he had signed the note _Headmaster Lestrade_. Not Dad or Daddy: official title and last name. She plodded through the rest of the day, decidedly lackluster.

oOoOo

Sherlock refused John's invitation for lunch, shutting himself in his office to pace and brood, not even bothering to prepare for his next class aside from placing that class's tests and handouts in his briefcase. With fifteen minutes left of his break, he pulled out his mobile and after two more minutes hesitation, called his brother.

Mycroft picked up his phone on the first ring. "Have you been fired yet?"

"Love the vote of confidence, thanks ever so much you _prat_. Why get me this job if you knew I wouldn't be able to keep it? So you could lord it over me for the rest of our lives?"

"Oh, spare me the melodrama, Sherly. Consider this practice for working with the masses; you need to hone your social skills, or someone is going to chin you because you say something a little _too_ smart," the older man said, raising an eyebrow.

"Stop smirking, Mycroft, it reads in your voice. Well, seems you were right once again-" Sherlock hated that he was even admitting that to his brother, but he really was out of his depth, "-especially since the entire school seems to think I'm sleeping with one of my students-"

Both of Mycroft's eyebrows went up. "What? Really?"

"Honestly, Mycroft, just how much _have_ you been eating on your little Sabbatical?"

"I'm just surprised that people would think that _you_ would be sleeping with someone. And I know I'm right," he said smugly, unable to resist the urge to gloat.

The professor went pink in the cheeks. "Apparently, I was a little 'too friendly' in class on Tuesday when we were enacting Act Three, Scene Two in class because I desperately needed a change of pace. How do you manage the students when they refuse to speak or offer opinions or ask questions unless you prompt them?"

Mycroft's eyes went wide. "You did _that_ scene with a student as Ophelia? Good Lord," he murmured. "And I usually start docking them points. Participation _is_ a grade, you know."

"I've threatened that, I've sent them to detentions, and nothing works. And _why_ is everyone bent up over that scene?!"

"For such a brilliant man, you can be _so_ incredibly dense, brother dear. Hamlet is essentially propositioning Ophelia for sexual intercourse. Hence...  _country_ matters."

"Oh...  _oh_..." Sherlock had studied the play, re-read it a thousand times, could spot all of the innuendos from a mile away, and somehow, in his own connection to the text, that had slipped his mind. _How had that slipped his mind_?

"Yes, now you get it. And who was the young lady on the receiving end of your attentions for this well-meaning but misguided attempt at inducing participation?"

"Molly Hooper."

Mycroft was silent. "You are incredibly stupid and extremely lucky that you haven't been fired already," he said quietly.

"Well, then say goodbye because the Headmaster has summoned me to his office after my last class today. I'm sure they'll be looking for another professor by the end of the week."

"Let me talk to Greg... I'll see what I can do," Mycroft said.

"I don't need-"

"Yes, Sherlock, you do, because I am a respected and tenured professor here. I'm basically the only chance you have to keep this job and your teaching license."

The tall, thin, pale man sighed, checking his watch. "I really hate you."

"I know."

"Fine, speak with Lestrade if you must. I have your class on Othello and Desdemona to teach...and before you ask, we have _not_ done a performance. They read from their seats."

"Good. That is the way I've done it for years, and it's _always_ worked for me. Sherlock... good luck." And with that, Mycroft hung up. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Time to undo the damage or try to, at least.

oOoOo

Sherlock walked towards the Headmaster's door after his final class, taking a deep breath before knocking.

"Enter."

He opened the door, walking forward to sit in the chair before Greg's desk.

"I know that _you_ know why I've called you in after sitting in on your class today," the headmaster said, grimly.

"Yes." There was nothing else to say

"You will be allowed to remain in your position and teach here. I don't want a repeat of this incident or of the class I saw today. Is that understood?"

"Yes. Sir. Of course not sir."

"You owe your brother a debt of gratitude. It's because of him that I changed my mind. I _was_ going to sack you," Greg said, raising an eyebrow.

"I expected nothing less."

"Of course. Now go... I, personally, never want to see you in this office again for the same reason," he said. Sherlock had been dismissed.

Nodding, the English Professor turned and left, never more thankful to be outside in his life. He needed to talk to John, to spend the evening with his best friend. He needed _comfort_.


	10. Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock needs comfort, so that means a visit to his very best friend, John Watson.

John looked up as he heard a knock on the door to his office; Sherlock was standing there, looking even more haggard and drawn than usual. "You look like shit, mate. What happened?" he asked, face concerned. He ushered the taller man in through the door and sat him down, bustling off to make him a cup of tea. Tea could always fix everything...

 

"Well, I haven't been fired. Mycroft saw to that well enough," Sherlock replied, sinking into the chair in front of John's desk

 

John let out a breath. "Well, that's good. I take it that you finally figured out just _why_ everyone was making such a fuss?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

 

"It took my prat of a sibling to explain it but yes. And I hate feeling stupid, John!"

 

"And now you know how it feels to be any one of us 'normal' folk around you," he chided gently as the microwave went off with their hot water in it.

 

Sherlock dropped his head on the desk, groaning with frustration. "I should have run the other direction when Mycroft said he had a job, but it was such a good offer, teaching what I love...there isn't supposed to be anything better than that."

 

"It'll get better, it really will. We all have our bad days," John said, patting Sherlock's shoulder reassuringly.

 

"I seem to be having more than just a few _bad days_ , John," Sherlock grumbled. "There is nothing going on between Miss Hoper and myself. I've never even-" He stopped, sudden and perfectly explicable embarrassment flooding his face.

 

John raised his eyebrows. "You mean you're...?"

 

"Shut up."

 

"Shutting up..." John said, moving in somewhat of a daze as he fixed their tea. But he had been so popular with the ladies in their school days...

 

Sherlock sighed. "No, I never have. I know you were always the ladies man, and they all flocked to me, but there was never anyone, and you know with my disposition I don't let people get close. So they stopped trying. And I stopped caring."

 

He pulled a face. "Well, that's...that's actually a bit sad, Sherlock..." John said. "It's fun, for one thing, and another, it allows you to share things with others." He saw Sherlock begin to open his mouth. "And before you say anything, no, I won't always be around. I mean, I'll try to be, but I do eventually want to get married..."

 

"Yes, yes, settle down, have a family, all those things you used to dream about when we were in school," Sherlock finished, blowing on his tea.

 

"Yeah, all that."

 

Sherlock looked at him over his mug. "Why are those things so important?"

 

John opened his mouth to reply and furrowed his brow. "It's...well, hm. Someone to share the rest of your life with. It's not going to be all roses and rainbows, life never is. But even through the rough patches, you know that they have your back. Not to mention there's makeup sex to look forward to," he said, waggling his eyebrows and grinning crookedly at the last bit.

 

Sherlock scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Is that really what you think about all the time? What everyone thinks about?"

 

"Of course not _all_ the time. But yeah, most people think of it. A part of the human condition I suppose."

 

"Seems trivial and time consuming."

 

"Like most things in life to you," John retorted drily.

 

"Most things are. Very few offer the proper cerebral challenge. For example, Shakespeare. He can be interpreted endlessly by a myriad of people. Now, I'm right of course in my studies and deductions, hence why I'm at the top of my field, but-"

 

"But...?"

 

Sherlock sighed. "There is truly no one with whom I can discuss my work on the same level. Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy speaking with you, and I always have, but it isn't the _same_."

 

John nodded. "You need another proper genius."

 

"Indeed."

 

"One that _isn't_ your brother."

 

"He is not a proper genius. He is a proper prat."

 

John snorted into his cup of tea. "Yeah, he is."

 

"Though," the man grumbled, taking a sip of the tea, "Ohhh, that is good, John, he _did_ make it possible for me to keep my job. I don't like being in his debt; it makes my life ever so difficult."

 

He raised his eyebrows. "So, he sweet-talked the headmaster on your behalf? Wow. He's not the utter bastard I remember or that you make him out to be."

 

"I don't understand it. I've never pretended to understand my brother."

 

"Family is _weird_ ," John agreed, recalling how his older sister acted.

 

"I can drink to that," Sherlock said, cracking a small smile and lifting his mug. "Cheers."

 

John grinned and gently clinked his mug against Sherlock's. "Cheers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's short, and the next one is too. We don't really have an average chapter length for this fic, although I can tell you that it will be in 5 parts culminating in almost 50 chapters. :)


	11. I Just Want to Protect You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Molly got home...

Lestrade sighed heavily as he packed up his briefcase and took his coat from the stand in his office. A look at the clock told him it was one minute to five, and his daughter was most likely outside waiting. Preparing himself, he left the room and locked it behind him. Molly was sitting outside her father's office, feeling decidedly miserable. Today was absolutely horrid, and now he was going to yell at her, she was certain; she stared at the floor, almost wishing she could sink through it. She looked up as she heard the sound of his key in the lock, before returning her gaze to the floor again, swallowing hard.

 

"Have a good evening, Miss Waters," Greg said to his secretary. "Come, Molly."

 

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, standing and following him.

 

The walk to the car was a silent one, Greg still inwardly wincing at her use of 'sir' instead of 'Daddy.' The car ride was equally silent and tense, the headmaster refusing to look at her until they reached home and he had set his things down on his desk. "Sitting room."

 

The car ride was horrible. Molly looked out the window the entire time and went to the sitting room as she was asked...er, rather, ordered to. She sat on an uncomfortable chair, staring at the floor again, willing herself not to cry. She wasn't eight any more; she was a woman grown. But she couldn't help feeling like she was going to be sent to her room.

 

He stood in front of her, feeling his heart twinge to see her so hurt. "So...where do I even begin, Molly?"

 

"From the beginning, I suppose," she said, still not looking at him.

 

"And where might that be? Your apparent flirting with a professor that has been received and returned in front of all your peers? Your constant praise at the hands of that same professor? The rather frighteningly large...mark on your neck that I'd assume your boyfriend gave you? Are you-Molly, are you sleeping with that boy?"

 

She took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm not _flirting_. I never flirted with him. And it's not my fault that he likes that I give correct answers," she said, a bit sullenly. "And so what if I am...?"

 

"Molly, the entire school is abuzz with rumors of what happened in that class. Is it true that you actually _ran your hands through his hair_?!"

 

She flinched. She had almost forgotten about that...

 

Greg bit his tongue before continuing. "When did you start having sex with Jim Moriarty? Are you being safe? Is it just him?"

 

"Last week. Yes, we're being safe. And of course just him! I...how could you think that I'd be with anyone else when I'm _dating_ Jim?" she said, now feeling extremely hurt. Even her _father_ thought she was a slut now?

 

"I can't be too careful, Molly! Since you've enrolled, I've slowly felt like I've started losing you. And now...now I do trust you, but I'm not sure just how much I know you anymore."

 

She went very quiet. "I see," she finally said, after a very long pause.

 

"What do you see?"

 

"To you, I'm still 8 years old. I'm _not_. I'm 20 years old, Daddy! You're not losing me, I'm growing up. It _happens_ ," she said, beginning to feel angry.

 

"I'm doing my best to look out for you, Molly. I always have. Ever since the accident..."

 

"I _know_! But you're not always going to be there to look out for me, Daddy..."

 

"Don't say that, Molly. I have a great number of years left in me."

 

"But it's the _truth_! And no matter what your intent, accidents happen," she said, her voice cracking.

 

The man could almost feel his heart breaking. Kneeling in front of Molly, he looked up at her, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I want the best for you, and yes, in my head I suppose you are still the eight year old I took in and adopted and raised as my own, but just because you've grown up doesn't mean I've stopped caring. And...well...listen up because I'll never say this again, I'm holding on tighter because I don't want to let you go."

 

Her lip quivered. "Daddy..." she said, her voice soft and thick with tears, "You're going to/ _have_ to."

 

He opened his arms. "I know...but I'm going to put up a fight."

 

She nearly fell into them, sobbing, her face pressed into his suit jacket. She hadn't cried like this in a long, long time. Greg held her close and rocked her the way he used to when she was a child. "Shhhh...it's all right, Molly. I'm here. I've got you."

 

She clung to him until her tears downgraded into whimpers and sniffles, holding him tight.

 

"Is there anything you want to tell me, sweetie? Anything at all? I really should ground you or punish you for what's been going on but...I think you've been doing enough of that yourself."

 

Molly shook her head. There really wasn't anything to tell...

 

"Shall I make us some dinner?"

 

"Not hungry," she mumbled, unwinding herself from him and scrubbing at her eyes.

 

"All right. I'll be in the den if you need anything. And I love you, Molly. Unconditionally, I love you," he said. "Please remember that."

 

She nodded. "Love you too, Daddy."

 

He kissed her forehead and went to the kitchen, retrieving a beer and some slices of pizza before taking his seat in front of the telly. Molly made her way up to her room and shut the door, sitting on the bed before flopping backwards, staring at the ceiling, feeling as limp and worn out as an old dishrag.

 

oOoOo

 

After his shows ended and there was only the news on, Greg wearily rose before spending a night in his chair. He went to Molly's room quietly to check on her and saw his daughter fast asleep on top of the covers of her bed. Smiling sadly, Greg snuck in, taking off her shoes and picking her up gently before tucking her in and pressing another kiss to the top of her head. "I'll wake you in the morning," he whispered softly before snaking back out and going to bed himself, wondering how it could possibly be that she had grown up so fast.

 

'Kay, Daddy..." she mumbled sleepily, snuggling under the blankets, not waking up even when he moved her.


	12. The Best Kind of Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets sent to the nurse for an injury in class...

Lab days were always John's favorite. There was something to be said for handing out dead things to his students and watching which ones were completely disgusted and which ones were fascinated. Lectures were fine although they did tend toward the dull side, especially since this class met in the mornings when the students were fresh from dreaming and wanted nothing more than to go back to their beds.

 

"Doctor Watson, could you help me with this specimen? It's being difficult," a girl from the back of the room said, frowning at the pickled body part pinned on the tray in front of her.

 

"What seems to be the problem, Miss Simmon?"

 

"This particular heart is so tough to cut! Seriously, I'm not being a helpless girl, I really can't get into it," Miss Simmon said, glaring at the offending organ.

 

Pulling on a pair of gloves, John came over and stood next to the girl, looking at it. "How are you holding your scalpel?"

 

She showed him her grip, like she was holding a pen or a pencil.

 

"Little more pressure from your pointer finger, that's what guides it," he said, taking the tool from her to demonstrate. Unfortunately, one of the lazier kids in the class had left a puddle of liquid on the floor by his feet so when he shifted his stance to demonstrate, he slipped, the scalpel easily slicing through his thumb.

 

"Doctor Watson are you- Oh my GOD! You're bleeding!" the girl said, her face horrified and going a sickly shade of white.

 

He hissed at the pain, both from where the back of his thigh had rammed into another lab table and from the wound in his hand. "Clean rag," he said sharply, dropping the scalpel with his blood in the sink. Gritting his teeth, he peeled off the rubber glove, whimpering slightly at the pain. _Fuck, that hurt_. He needed to get pressure on it sooner rather than later.

 

There was a flurry of movement and a rag was thrust at him. "Infirmary," the girl said, looking now decidedly sick.

 

"Are you all right?" he asked, wrapping his hand. If Meredith Simmon was going to faint at the sight of blood, she really should have picked a different Biology class to take.

 

"Fine. You need stitches," she said, now looking grimly at the blood that was staining the cloth.

 

He nodded curtly, putting Luke in charge of calling down to the office for another Biology professor as a substitute for the remainder of the class as he made his way to the infirmary

 

oOoOo

 

Mary Morstan sighed as she looked over another doctor's note. Honestly, the students were getting more and more creative with their forgeries. She was distracted by movement at the door, and a rather attractive man walked in, clutching a swiftly-darkening rag to his left hand. "What happened?" were the first words out of her mouth as she stood and pulled on gloves.

 

"Student left a puddle of...something on the floor. I was demonstrating how to hold a scalpel for an artery dissection and I slipped." The woman standing there in slacks and a blouse under her lab coat was... _rather adorable_ , he thought.

 

She walked over to him and gently removed the rag, examining the wound. "A clean cut...need to wash it out though because of the formaldehyde. I don't think you want to be partially embalmed just yet," she said with a wry smile, guiding him over to the sink. "Sorry, this is gonna hurt like a bastard," she said apologetically as she turned on the water and stuck his hand under it, rinsing off the blood and allowing her to fully see the extent of the damage.

 

He growled, biting his lip as he worked to breathe steadily. "No, I have no...intention of being preserved."

 

"Good. You're too cute to be a specimen," she said, grinning cheekily. She turned off the water and grabbed some sterile gauze and pressed it to his hand, the flow of blood still trickling sluggishly. "You'll need at least three stitches, and no more dissections until they come out."

 

A faint blush crept to his cheeks. "John Watson, Biology Professor," he said, holding out his good hand as she retrieved the necessary supplies for the sutures.

 

"Mary Morstan, Nurse," she said, taking his hand after she set the suturing implements aside in a firm shake. John grinned at her, very pleased with himself for not coming off as incapable. He held out his injured hand over the exam table, sitting in the chair next to it as she began to work on his wound.

 

"I have to say, you saved me from a horrible fate: reading bad forgeries of doctor's notes," she said as she worked over his hand, stitching him back together with skill and precision.

 

His brow twitched and he squirmed slightly in his seat, the only signs of his discomfort. "They're still doing that? I have to say though, nothing compares to the ones Sherlock used to do."

 

"Oh? The English professor filling in for Mycroft? School chums?" she asked, quirking a brow. "And what _did_ he use to do, exactly?"

 

"Best mates, actually. The things he used to drag me into...well, there was the one time he called us both out sick so he could drag me off on an exploration of the grounds because his classes that day were 'boring'."

 

She laughed. "That sounds like fun! Find anything worth mentioning?"

 

"The willow tree by the river became 'our spot' as he called it. Said it reminded him of something from Shakespeare, but _everything_ reminded him of something from Shakespeare. Bloody git noticed- _notices_ everything, well, almost everything. He's always been a bit iffy in the area of relationships."

 

Mary nodded. "The English Lit types are _always_ reminded of Shakespeare for one thing or the other. Wouldn't be surprised if they drew inspiration from something a cat sicked up," she said, snorting a bit.

 

"He did once. I'm not joking."

 

She blinked and then laughed out loud, long and hard. Thankfully, she was done with his stitches. "Oh my god, you aren't kidding! That's just too funny!" she said between gasps for air.

 

John joined in, the memory as fresh as if it had just happened. "Compared it to...oh bugger, what did he say...'a physical representation of the ugliness disguised in Richard the Third' I think."

 

She was overtaken by a fresh wave of mirth. "That's ridiculous!"

 

"That's what I told him. He just looked at me blankly and said I had no imagination. I told him to stuff it. He pushed me into the river."

 

Mary raised an eyebrow. "Friends forever," she said drily, smiling. "Did something like that with my best mate. She told me to piss off, I tied her shoelaces together and watched her take a header into the pavement. We were inseparable after that."

 

"Amazing how that works, isn't it? The best was when I one upped Sherlock. The only time I think it's ever happened to him, actually. He was in the process of studying Hamlet, he _loves_ that bloody play, and I got some of my buddies to help me stage a murder on campus. We even got approval and everything. He nearly missed the deadline of his paper due on it because he was too busy trying to frame his brother who was in his first year as a professor here."

 

" _NO_. That was you?! They _still_ talk about that!" she said gleefully, her eyes sparkling.

 

"It was. One of my finest moments...of course, he locked me out of our room for a week and scattered all of my jumpers around campus in retaliation. I still think there was one I never found. Wait, you went here?"

 

She nodded. "I transferred in my second year, class right below yours. This place has a way of drawing you back to it," she said. "'Here's metal more attractive,'" she quoted, smiling.

 

John winced slightly as he thought of the ill fated scene...god had it only been three days? Then, looking back at her and feeling rather cheeky, he said, "Lady, shall I lie in your lap?" God knows he'd only drilled Sherlock on his lines three days straight because the boy had wanted to make sure he knew every single nuance of the text for the play.

 

She raised her eyebrows. _Oho! So, flirting with her, was he_? "No, my lord," she continued, the class she had taken coming back to her easily. That and the Kenneth Branagh version was her favorite, and she knew it inside and out.

 

"I mean, my head upon your lap?" Where was this coming from? He was rubbish with acting, he'd told Sherlock so.

 

"Aye, my lord," she said. She leaned closer. "Now let's quit with the Shakespeare and be blunt. Are you going to ask me to dinner or not, Professor Watson?"

 

Taken aback, John flushed a deep pink, distracted by the hazel of her eyes. "I-uh-yes? Yes! Yes, I am asking you to dinner...with me..."

 

Mary chuckled throatily. "Good. When and where?"

 

"Tomorrow all right? There's a good Italian place in town."

 

"Perfect. What time?"

 

"Seven?"

 

"Seven it is. I'll see you then...John," she said, a slow smile spreading across her face.

 

He started grinning in spite of himself. "Shall I text you the address?"

 

"Yes, you may have my number," she quipped, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she wrote it down on a scrap of paper and slid it to him. He smirked at her, taking the piece of paper and glancing at it; the room grew hot as he read the message under her mobile number.

 

Mary, ever the tease, wrote _'Tis a fair thought, to lie between maid's legs. And yes, I do mean country matters. ;)_

 

"I'll just...uhhh...I'll text you." He turned to go before looking over his shoulder. "Shall I pick you up?"

 

"Yes, I think that would be just fine."

 

"Right then. I should probably make sure they haven't killed each other yet. See you tomorrow, Mary."

 

"Until then, John," she said smiling. She waited until she was sure he was down the hall and out of earshot before she squealed to herself. She had a _date_!

 

Once in the hall, John Watson allowed himself a rather large grin that stayed on his face the rest of the day; even Sherlock wasn't able to ruin his good mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we had to have a way for them to meet!


	13. Pink Slip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking out of turn is a one way ticket to the Headmaster's office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for bullying

Molly sighed as she settled into her chair. Things had seemed to have died down since the unit on Hamlet. Quite frankly, she was glad it was over and done with, eager to put it behind her. Now the class was a little over halfway through Macbeth, and she found herself both eager and terrified to see if they were going to be acting again. At least there were no overtly sexual scenes in this play.

 

Sherlock had taken to arriving one minute before the class started to avoid any further insinuations because quite frankly, he was tired of them. The article in the school paper had done nothing to help his situation, although it was retracted within the first twenty-four hours; he had a feeling the Headmaster had dealt with it. So here he was, filing in with his students and taking out their tests. At least there was some improvement, but Macbeth did always seem to go over better than most of the plays he'd ever been fond of.

 

Molly carefully ignored her professor. She of course noted that he was, since the incident, coming in later. She somewhat missed their little talks in the quiet before class started, but she understood his reasoning, especially after that article. It may have been retracted swiftly, but that didn't stop it from showing up in places she happened to be. She focused on her schoolwork more now, and was even a bit more careful around Jim. Although, to be honest, he didn't seem to mind which Molly didn't know if she should be pleased or concerned by.

 

Moriarty swaggered into the room and swooped down on her, kissing her briefly before sliding into his seat; Sebastian trudged up behind him looking exhausted. "Gooooooood morning, Kitten."

 

"Morning, Jim," she said, flashing him a brief smile and returning the kiss. She looked at Seb. "You all right? You look horrid," she said, concerned for him. He was, after all, Jim's best friend, and she had come to have an almost begrudging friendship with him.

 

"No sleep," the boy mumbled, dragging out his play before setting his head on his desk.

 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Seb," she said, patting him on the back. "If you want, I'll take notes for you so you can try to get some shuteye later."

 

"Thanks, Molls," he mumbled into his arm.

 

"Yeeeeees, Sebby just _couldn't_ relax last night. I tried everything but he just lay there. Poor Tiger should see the nurse at some point."

 

Molly perked up, her eyes going almost sharp for a moment. Everything...? She mentally shook herself. No, she was just being silly. Jim _was_ dating her, after all.

 

The dark haired boy caught her eye and made a noise of disgust. " _Really_ , Kitten, I thought you had more faith in me than _that_. Please, who'd ever want to shag _his_ arse? Especially when dating the second smartest person in our year?"

 

"Sorry," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek, her suspicions assuaged. For now. She flipped through her book and started reading in the little time they had left before class began.

 

"All right. You know where the homework goes. There are ten seconds left before I expect you in your seats!"

 

There was a rush of movement as the latecomers scrambled to return their homework and go sit. Molly had, of course, turned in her homework as soon as she had walked in. She allowed herself a small smile as she watched him pace the floor of the classroom.

 

Once the students were seated, Sherlock began handing back tests. "Overall, grades are slowly improving, although _some_ of you need to review the part of our first lesson in this unit on the scansion and scoring of texts as that was half of the grade on this particular exam. As always, we have the same people with the highest grades in the class; it is undoubted who will be allowed to continue beyond this class come December." Having handed back the tests, Sherlock returned to the front of the room. "Now, you've all read through Act Three by this point. Which scene do you think is the most important in terms of Macbeth's sanity?"

 

The room was completely silent, none of the students making eye contact with the professor.

 

"Anyone? All right, I can see I'll have to spoon feed you the answer-"

 

Molly sighed and raised her hand. When he called on her she said "Scene Four, when he's confronted by Banquo's ghost at the Feast of the Kings."

 

"And why is that? Why not where he orders the murderers to kill his friend?"

 

"Because he doesn't, in a way, have to deal with the fact that the blood of his friend is on his hands until Banquo's shade shows up. Possibly a hallucination caused by guilt, but the core idea still stands."

 

"Excellent. Now, we see clearly depicted in this scene just how much Macbeth's mind is beginning to unravel, and whatever power causes him to see the dagger and later, the witches' visions also allows him to see the ghost of his friend."

 

"There are more things on heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy," she muttered to herself, pulling a wry smile. She _would_ think of Hamlet, wouldn't she.. how ironic.

 

Sherlock heard her remark, debating on whether to ignore it, but Donovan decided for him.

 

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," she said, smirking at the other girl.

 

"DONOVAN! You and Miss Hooper come collect your slips for talking out of turn."

 

Molly flushed red and felt the hot burn of shame as she walked to pick up the discipline slip to the sniggers of her classmates.

 

"Does anyone else want to join them in the Headmaster's office?"

 

The snickering stopped abruptly and the students quickly schooled themselves into more appropriate expressions of boredom.

 

"A bit of enthusiasm, _please_. It's like teaching a bunch of sex-obsessed twigs. _Now_ , to continue..."

 

She gathered her things and walked out, dreading each step that brought her to her father's office. This was her first discipline slip. She felt a flash of anger at her professor...of _course_ it would be in his class. She sighed as she glared at the accusatory pink paper in her hand.

 

oOoOo

 

Greg's eyes widened slightly to see his daughter along with Sally Donovan. "Come in, girls," he said almost wearily

 

Molly sat and looked stolidly at her shoes as Donovan huffed and took the seat next to her.

 

He collected their slips and glanced at them. "Molly...talking out of turn...Sally...inappropriate and cruel remarks." He sat at his desk and looked at them. "Do you have anything to say for yourselves?"

 

"It won't happen again, _sir_ ," Donovan said, a bite in her voice. Molly nodded in agreement.

 

"That's what you said the last time you were in here, Donovan."

 

"Well I mean it this time."

 

"If you're sent here again for any reason, you will be suspended for a week. Is that understood? Molly, this is your first offense, so you have a warning. I don't want to see you here because you are in trouble."

 

"Yes, sir," she said quietly as Donovan fumed, her arms crossed in front of her.

 

"Donovan?"

 

"Yes, _sir_."

 

"Good. Now, both of you wait outside until class is over."

 

Molly trudged out and sat in one of the plush armchairs in the secretary's office, glancing at the clock. Another forty minutes at least. At least she had her book with her.

 

"You're a right little teacher's pet, aren't you?" Donovan hissed from the corner of her mouth as she sat sullenly next to Molly on the only other chair in the small room.

 

Molly flinched, but then rolled her eyes. "That's getting very old, Sally," she whispered back.

 

"Not playing favorites anymore though, is he? This has to be what, the first time you've ever been in trouble? I bet you'd just love for him to punish you, wouldn't you?"

 

She actually glared at the girl. "I believe I said that those comments are getting very _old_ ," she said, her voice arctic.

 

"No, they aren't. You're just bored. Bet he isn't boring. Girls can tell, you know, when another one likes a guy. It's always obvious."

 

Molly felt a sick feeling well up in her gut. She bit her tongue hard to prevent herself from saying something truly cruel.

 

"I bet you've imagined him...where does it happen? His office? Your dorm? Back at his flat?"

 

"Sally...shut up," Molly said, gripping her book so hard that the pages crinkled.

 

"His trousers don't really conceal much. And just how soft _was_ his hair?"

 

Molly turned slowly to face her, her eyes blazing. "I said. Shut. The Fuck. Up. _Sally_." she hissed.

 

Donovan stared right back at her, unflinching. "Kiss your Professor with that mouth?"

 

"At least I don't kiss Anderson with it," she said, before she could stop herself.

 

"Are you saying something about Anderson?"

 

"Sally, he's cheating on his girlfriend with you. What's to say that he's going to stop at one on the side? What's he going to do when he's tired of you?"

 

"And what about when Jim tires of you?" the girl retorted, her face flushing slightly.

 

"Then he tires of me, we go our separate ways, and I look for someone else. At least I'll have a chance, because no one is going to want Anderson's sloppy seconds," she said. She knew it was harsh, knew it was cruel, but she had had _enough_.

 

Donovan went pale, and then her eyes began to gleam. "At least I'd have the sense to find someone my age and straight instead of mooning after my Professors. Which one do you want to boff more? Doctor Watson or Professor Holmes?"

 

Molly recoiled as if struck. "What do you mean straight...? Jim is straight," she said, wincing at how stupid that sounded.

 

The girl smirked inwardly. "Whatever you say."

 

"Enough. I don't care if you're pissed at me, but leave Jim out of this. He has nothing to do with it."

 

"Oh, touchy about the boy you're _actually_ shagging? What do you think about while you're getting off with him? Blonde hair or curly, dark hair?"

 

Molly snapped. She leaned in close to the other girl and said in a voice that was perfectly calm, but laced with venom, her eyes cold and hard. "I have had _enough_ of your shit. If you so much as speak to me again, I will rip out your tongue and feed it to the ravens. Have I made myself _perfectly_ clear?"

 

Completely taken aback, Donovan stared at her, not missing the steely glint in Molly's eyes. She nodded once.

 

"Good. Now be silent and leave me be." And with that, she returned to her book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We liked the idea of BAMF!Molly in this chapter, and Jim needs to be more careful if he's gonna tease about Seb.


	14. A Powerful Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The English class is on to The Scottish Play, and it's performance day, starring Molly Hooper as Lady Macbeth.

Seriously considering his sanity, Sherlock planned the next lesson carefully. They would be acting again, only this time, he'd be nowhere near it. He'd just send the students up to the front to do their part..."Out Out, Damned spot" seemed as good a scene as any.

 

Molly swallowed hard. Acting again, but no romance this time. _Thank God._

 

Homework handed in, Sherlock announced the next in-class activity. "Miss Hooper: Lady Macbeth, Donovan: Gentlewoman, Moran: Doctor. Front and center with your plays you three."

 

The trio trooped forward, taking their places. Seb was the first to read, acting as the doctor. "I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?"

 

Donovan swallowed, not liking being this close to Molly, not after what had happened on Friday. "Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen/ her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon/ her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it,/ write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again/ return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep." she replied.

 

The gentlewoman and the doctor continued their small parts, talking about how the Lady would sleepwalk. And then...then it was time for the little monologue that was so well-known. Molly put herself away and let Lady Macbeth out to walk the area in front of her peers. "Out, damned spot! out, I say!--One: two: why,/ then, 'tis time to do't.--Hell is murky!--Fie, my/ lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we/ fear who knows it, when none can call our power to/ account?--Yet who would have thought the old man/ to have had so much blood"- here she looked directly at Donovan, eyes glassy, doll-like and faintly menacing, "in him."

 

The girl visibly shivered; she wasn't able to help it. This bitch was _terrifying_. Sally almost missed Seb's next line completely. "Do you mark that?" he asked, tilting his head as he studied the look in the girl's eyes...it was almost like the look Jim got when about to...well...

 

Jim leaned forward slightly in his seat, eyeing Molly with a renewed curiosity.

 

The girl took a step towards Sally as she said her next lines, moving as if she really were sleepwalking. "The thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now?--/ What, will these hands ne'er be clean?--No more o'/ that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with/ this starting."

 

Now it was Seb's turn to almost shiver. Shit, did she have some power in her. "Go to, go to; you have known what you should not."

 

Donovan glanced at him, backing away from Molly as surreptitiously as she could. "She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: heaven knows what she has known."

 

With her next line, Molly let out a manic laugh that turned into a choked sob; "Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh!"

 

Jim was riveted. He didn't' know where is timid, generally shy girlfriend was drawing her performance from, but he _liked_ it. He didn't mind seeing Sebby squirm up there either, served the boy right for refusing him sex the night before because he had "work."

 

Seb and Sally spoke their lines, with Donovan putting the most feeling she could muster into hers about not having a heart like Lady Macbeth's in her body for all the dignity she had. The gentlewoman and the doctor spoke a little more before Molly had a line about Banquo not being able to come out of the grave since he was dead.

 

"Even so?" Sebby whispered, more enthralled with Molly as he ever had been. No wonder Jim liked her; the girl truly was something else like this.

 

She delivered her next lines with a sort of hollow finality. "To bed, to bed! there's knocking at the gate: come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's done cannot be undone.--To bed, to bed, to bed!"

 

Jim shifted in his seat, toes curling and uncurling in his shoes...well _fucking hell_...

 

Seb and Donovan finished the scene to the class erupting in applause after a few more moments of rapt silence, even Sherlock joining in. "Now _that_ ," he said as he came back to the front of the room, "was quite the performance. You may take your seats."

 

Molly flushed and took her seat, but not before flashing a quick toothy smile at Donovan. The girl shrank away, anger boiling in her gut.

 

"Well now," Jim purred in her ear as she sat, using the applause as cover, "you were really quite marvelous."

 

"Thank you," she murmured back, feeling quite pleased with herself, settling into her seat, her heartbeat still loud in her ears.

 

"Quite a _rousing_ performance," he purred before Sherlock's voice cut through the room.

 

"Settle down, there will be time for that outside of class. Now, test on Thursday, make sure you actually _have_ read the end of the play. The test will be in essay form, and begin thinking about your final paper topics. Your paper is _in addition to_ your final, not instead of."

 

Her eyes went wide at Jim's words and goose bumps formed on her flesh as a sharp stab of pleasure went through her. She barely even noticed Prof. Holmes talking about the test and final paper; she already had copies of all her notes, she was ready.

 

"If you are all quite done ignoring me, you may leave."

 

Molly nearly bounded up and almost skipped out of the classroom. She was still riding the adrenaline rush. She turned to face Jim, who was following, smiling and laughing softly at him, stretching out her hands to her boyfriend. He took one hand in his, fingertips tracing her skin. "Murderous and insane to playful...such an interesting range you have."

 

She shivered at the feeling of his fingertips on her skin. "That was a lot more fun than I expected. I thought Donovan was going to wet herself!" she said, smirking a bit.

 

"Yes, I did notice that. Now," he murmured, tugging her down an empty hall and trapping her against the wall, "what could my timid little Kitten have said to make the big, scary bully so terrified?"

 

Molly bit her lip. She wasn't particularly proud of that moment, and the rush of the play was wearing off now. "Er...she was being mean, saying things about you and then about me wanting to boff both Doctor Watson and Professor Holmes and I just...I told her that if she spoke to me again, I'd rip out her tongue and feed it to the ravens. I just snapped," she said, fidgeting with the cuffs of her shirt sleeves.

 

The boy's eyebrows went up in surprise before his face broke into a huge grin. "That's my girl," he whispered. "Defending my honor as well as her own. And Donovan is a spoiled bitch who can't do any better than Dino-dick." He rested his forehead on hers for a moment, mulling over the rest of her reply. "Professor Holmes _and_ Doctor Watson?"

 

"I don't know where she got Doctor Watson from..." Molly said, frowning. She had remembered that from when Sally was baiting her in the headmaster's secretary's office. Why did she think that she wanted to sleep with Doctor Watson as well?

 

"Could it be perhaps that she is _jealous_ because you do sooooooo well in both their classes and she can't make it one day without landing herself in trouble?"

 

"Dunno," Molly said, sighing, leaning into his warmth. "Truth be told, I feel sorry for her."

 

"Don't. She's a bitch and a whore and is getting what's coming to her."

 

She flinched a bit; there was that vindictive side of Jim that was making more and more of an appearance lately. For no reason, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close, reminding her that he was still human, that he still loved her.

 

"Hey there, Kitten," he purred, stroking her hair. "Still so skittish."

 

She closed her eyes and smiled at his touch. "Sorry," she mumbled, taking in his scent. She hadn't been close to him for about three days and it felt like ages had passed since then.

 

"Miss me? I know I've just been soooooooo busy, but that's the job," Jim said, his eyes open and reading her easily. He'd need to spend more time with her now, but he didn't think he'd mind. She had some strength in her and wasn't the easy pushover he'd always thought. It was nearly impossible to surprise Jim Moriarty, but Molly had done it. The only other person to do so was Sebastian... _no, stop thinking about him_ , Jim thought as he forced himself to stay in control. It seemed that lately all he had to do was think of his roommate, and he got a hard on.

 

Molly squeaked as she felt him twitch against her, then her lips stretched into a smirk. "Looks like you've been missing me as well," she said cheekily, pressing closer to him. He'd told the truth, though; she _had_ missed him.

 

"Being coy, are you? Might have to knock that out of you," he teased, nipping her ear

 

She gasped and arched into him as she felt his teeth on her. She purred and gently bit his neck above the collar of his shirt, scraping her teeth along the sensitive skin there. Jim growled low in his chest before grabbing her hand and dragging her back to his room. Molly felt a flash of heat as he growled, then had to stifle a giggle as he dragged her back to his room and nearly threw her on to his bed, slamming the door behind him and quickly locking it, looking at her like he wanted to devour her.

 

He chucked his bag into the corner, shrugging out of his jacket. "You being so delightfully interesting and powerful today," he murmured, stalking over to the bed, "I must say...it's a definite turn on."

 

She was stretched out and felt wanton, sitting up slightly to slowly undo the buttons on her blouse, one by one. "So glad I can please you... _sir_ ," she said, the corners of her lips quirking up into a mischievous smirk.

 

His mouth watered and trousers grew tight. "Ooooh, you should call me _that_ more often," he purred, toeing off his shoes and shrugging out of his shirt.

 

 "Will do, sir," she said, letting her blouse fall before slowly moving her hands down her torso to rest her thumbs at the waist of her skirt, barely tugging at it.

 

"Well, well my little sex kitten," Jim said, giggling to himself. "Why don't you put on a show for me? Touch yourself for Jim, hmmmm?"

 

Molly went a shade of brightest crimson and bit her lip before nodding slowly. She wriggled out of her skirt and her underwear and bra until she was bare before him. She felt totally exposed as she moved one hand down lower before her fingers came to rest in the folds of her sex, gently stroking herself until she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut.

 

Jim dropped his trousers and pants as he watched, stroking himself to full hardness before applying a condom. "Moan my name, it's _me_ touching you, Kitten."

 

"Nh... _Jim_ ," she said, breathlessly as she continued her movements. Her hips began twitching up into her hand as she worked now faster, now slower, keeping herself from reaching satisfaction.

 

"Very good, most impressive my kitten," the boy purred, getting a sudden whiff of air that smelled like...ohhhhh _bad_ Tiger, he thought as a smirk graced his features. "What do you want from me, Kitten?"

 

She flushed even brighter as he asked her what she wanted from him. She'd never talked dirty to him before..."I...- _ah_!- I want you...inside me. I _need_ you inside me," she said, pleading with him.

 

"And just _how_ do you want me, Kitten?" He stood next to the bed, close enough that she could feel a bit of the heat from his body but not enough that he was touching her

 

She felt as if she was going to go mad, having him so near but not touching her. "I want you in me, pounding into me...pinning me to the mattress under you...your m-mouth on my breasts," she gasped, her free hand now tangled in the sheets of his bed.

 

He reached down trailed a single finger down the warm flesh of her breasts. "Don't you dare finish yet."

 

She whimpered but slowed her movements, her body beginning to tremble. " _Please_ ," she begged, arching into his touch.

 

"Please, _what_?"

 

"Please... _sir_."

 

"That's my girl," he whispered before climbing onto the bed and entering her in one swift movement. "Deserves a reward, that does."

 

Molly cried out as he entered her roughly, wrapping her arms and legs around him as he filled her. She blindly sank her teeth into his shoulder but not enough to break the skin like last time.

 

"Bite and scratch Kitten...leave _plenty_ of marks," he said as he began to move. She gasped as he rocked into her and bit harder when he asked her to, dragging her fingernails down his back to leave long, red welts in the pale skin. She snapped her hips upwards, meeting his thrusts.

 

"Harder, Kitten," he whispered into her ear, not moving very much but holding her in place.

 

She growled and bit down harder, feeling her teeth break the skin this time, feeling the blood trickle down his skin. She laved the bite mark with her tongue and kissed him, allowing him to taste his blood on her lips.

 

He devoured her lips and began to drive into her as he tasted the copper of his own blood. "Whenever you're ready, darling."

 

She nodded and thrust up again, harder. It only took a few more snaps of his hips and she shattered, crying out his name in ecstasy as she came, her inner muscles clenching and fluttering around him. Jim pounded into her even harder, reaching down to stroke her already over-sensitive area

 

Molly came again, a wordless cry wrenched from her lips at his touch as she dug her fingernails into the skin of his back. He growled and snarled, his hand sliding around to the small of her back and working her against him, willing himself to come

 

"Oh _yes_. Oh Jim, oh my love, oh _Jim_!" she panted as she felt him twitch and jerk within her, one hand going to twine in his hair. With a soft howl, he buried himself in Molly, biting and sucking on her neck until he was done.

 

Molly purred against him as she felt his teeth and lips against her neck. "That was...magnificent," she gasped as they stilled, catching their breath.

 

"I like my lovers nice and willful, gives me more to work with," he whispered as he pulled out of her. "Now, run along. Don't want you late for class," he grinned.

 

She almost pouted but nodded and dressed, checking the time; she had about fifteen minutes before her next class which would give her time to freshen up so she didn't reek of sex when she went to her next class. Molly pressed a kiss to his cheek before she left, feeling much more relaxed.

 

Jim shut the door and cleaned himself up before a great smirk graced his lips. "Enjoy the show?" he said softly.

 

Seb stumbled out of the closet, looking mussed and flushed. "F-fucking _hell,_ I hate you sometimes," he gasped, glaring at his lover.

 

Jim looked positively gleeful as he glanced at Seb's cock. "So you _did_ enjoy it...but not enough. Your own fault for sticking around."

 

"Not my fault that you decided to come back and shag her without a bit of warning," he spat, his erection twitching.

 

"She was being just so _delightfully_ interesting," he replied, walking up to Sebastian. "Can you be interesting too?"

 

"Let me _show_ you how _interesting_ I can be," the blonde growled. He forced Jim to his knees. "Think you can take care of that?"

 

The boy grunted as he felt his kneecaps bruise against the floor, face to face with Seb's cock. Glancing up at the man, he smirked. "Mayyyybeeee."

 

"Then _do_ it. Suck me off. Unless you're telling me you _can't_ ," Seb taunted, winding his fingers through the dark brown hair in front of him, knowing that Jim would never back down from a challenge.

 

The dark haired boy snarled, glaring up at the blond before leaning forward, flicking out his tongue to lick the older boy's length; this was something they hadn't done yet, but he'd be damned if he let his lover get the best of him. Seb shuddered as he felt Jim's tongue against the sensitive skin of his cock. "You can do better than that," he gasped.

 

"Shut up or I'll bite it off."

 

"And then you'd never have it again, and I'd be forced to kill you."

 

Jim pressed wet, open mouthed kisses to the swollen flesh, one hand working the boy's balls. "Good enough yet?"

 

"B-better," Seb said, breathless.

 

"Tiger's trembling," the sing song voice said before he sucked just the head of Seb's manhood into his mouth.

 

"Oh _fuck_ ," Seb whimpered, bringing his other hand to Jim's hair as the smaller boy took the very tip of him into the wet heat of his mouth, not even dignifying Jim's baiting with a response. Staring up at Seb unblinkingly, Jim sucked very, very hard on the part of Seb he had in his mouth.

 

"JESUSFUCKINGCHRIST!" Seb roared, spots dancing in front of his vision. It took nearly everything he had not to ram his cock all the way into Jim's mouth. The boy raised one eyebrow and did it again.

 

"Oh God... _Jimmy_ ," the taller boy whimpered, starting to thrust in minute twitches into his lover's mouth. That did it for Jim. Swallowing as much of Sebastian that he could, he worked him over with his mouth, learning and tweaking minutely as he discovered where Seb was the most sensitive

 

His eyes nearly rolled back into his head as Jim took him almost all the way into his mouth, running his tongue along the underside of his cock, sucking every now and again. "Nnh-Jimmy...gonna..." he said, breathless, feeling himself teetering on the brink already, worked up after watching him fucking Molly.

 

The smirk written in his eyes, Jim stared unblinkingly up at Seb, and with a low groan, Seb spent himself in Jim's mouth. The smaller boy nearly choked as he struggled to handle the release in his mouth, deciding to just swallow as much as he could.

 

The blonde smirked as he withdrew himself from the clinging grip of Jim's mouth. "Not bad...could use some practice, though," he purred, tucking himself back into his trousers.

 

Jim's look went from intrigued and curious to very put out. "Take it back."

 

Seb snorted. "I'm being honest. It was very good for your first one, but everyone needs practice," he said, before leaning down and claiming Jim's mouth in a rough kiss, tasting himself on his lover's tongue. He growled; it was interesting, tasting both Jim and himself, but it was _good_ , though, and he decided from then on to make the combination as often as he could.

 

Jim's eyes rolled back in his head from the kiss, his body burning as he wrapped his arms around his lover's neck. Seb only broke away when neither of them had air in their lungs. "I have to get to class now. Thanks for the... _show_. Surprising how good of a leading lady Kitten is, and I'm not talking about on the stage," he said, smirking.

 

"You owe me later for my... _services_ , Tiger," Jim growled, climbing back to his feet and shaking out the pins and needles from his legs.

 

"Fine," Seb said, not really caring or paying attention as he stuffed his books into his rucksack and went out the door. _Services indeed_.


	15. An Unexpected Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's John and Mary's third date: movie and dinner and then...snogging?

Holding a single rose in his hand, John knocked on the door to her flat, taking deep breaths to calm himself. They'd teased and been playful and she was just so clever and funny and _kind_ ; he wasn't sure if he'd ever met someone with as good a heart as Mary Morstan.

 

Mary grinned as she heard the knock on her door. Punctual, that was John. She gave herself one last check-over in the mirror and winked at her reflection. _Knock 'im dead, sweetheart_ , she joked in her head and went to let him in. "John!" she exclaimed, beaming as she saw him standing on her doorstep. He was dressed nicely and her heart glowed as she saw his offering to her: a single red rose.

 

"Evening, Mary," he said, grinning back at her and offering her the flower. "This is for you."

 

"Oh, it's lovely," she said softly. "Come in while I put this in some water, won't take a minute," she said over her shoulder, walking into the recesses of her flat, looking for an appropriately-sized vase to hold the single blossom.

 

He hesitantly crossed the threshold, glancing around at her flat. He had the stray thought that if he were Sherlock, he'd know everything about her because of some random item like the print of "Starry Night" on her wall or the way her keys were laying on the table by the door. "How was the rest of your week?" he called.

 

"Almost painfully dull, thank goodness it's over," she called back, letting out a soft exclamation of triumph when she found what she was looking for. She sashayed over to the sink; might as well let him see what he wanted while he was here. She could tell that he was nervous by the way she heard him tapping his foot as he stood in the entryway still. "And yours?" she asked, returning the question as she walked back over, setting the vase down on the kitchen counter and sticking the single rose into it.

 

"Hand is fully healed, too many lab reports to grade, Sherlock won't stop complaining about his students, although he did remark that there is some talent in the class. Apparently he got them up on their feet and did a scene from Macbeth that was very good," he replied, lip twitching as she walked over to the sink. He clasped his hands behind his back, an old nervous habit.

 

"Glad your hand is healed! Sorry about the lab reports, and from what you've told me, Sherlock does little else _but_ complain. Heartening to hear that he thinks something positive of his students, though," she said. She saw that his hands were clasped behind his back. Smirking, she walked over and leaned in close to his ear. "At ease, soldier," she murmured. "Let me go get my coat and keys, and we can be on our merry way."

 

He didn't manage to suppress the shiver from her voice as he dropped his arms to her sides, taking her coat from the hook in the hall and holding it up for her.

 

"Ever the gentleman! And they say that chivalry is dead," she said, slipping her arms through the sleeves of her coat, feeling goose bumps rise on the back of her neck at his nearness. She knew it was probably too early to say so, but she was fairly certain that she was head-over-heels in love with this man.

 

Brushing lint from the shoulders of her coat, John offered his arm with only a smile. Mary beamed softly back at him, taking his arm, tucking herself into him. She felt as if she had known him for years; she had never been this comfortable with anyone she had dated before, and it was new and amazing.

 

oOoOo

 

They were off to the cinema; John had decided that, after knowing Mary for only a few weeks, she'd enjoy the newest Peter Jackson film

 

The nurse nearly squealed as she saw the tickets for the movie they were seeing. "Oh, I've been wanting to see this since I heard they were making it into a movie!" she gushed, eyes alight with excitement and pleasure. "You're _wonderful_!" she said, pressing an excited and grateful kiss to John's cheek as they went to go find their seats in the dimly-lit cinema.

 

He blushed, extremely proud of himself. "We're having dinner after, but do you want anything to tide you over until then?" he asked as they walked through the building.

 

"Not really hungry, but do you want to split a drink?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

 

"I'll be right back." Letting her get settled in the choice seats of the theater, he went back to the concession stand to get a large drink, snagging two straws from the dispenser on his way back. "Coke all right with you?" he asked as he sat down and handed her a straw.

 

"Perfection," she said, moving her coat from where she had saved him a seat. They were in the top row in the middle, giving them the best view of the screen.

 

Settling back as the previews started, John slipped his straw into the drink and took a sip, sighing as the liquid cooled him down; he always felt overly warm around Mary, but he was really starting to not mind in the slightest. She slid her straw into the drink as well, bending her head to take a sip and settling back as the movie began to roll. Biting her lip, she cast a quick look over at John before sliding her hand into his, twining their fingers.

 

The doctor glanced down, smiling as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. She shivered in pleasure, wearing a grin large enough to make her cheeks hurt as she felt his thumb move across the back of her hand. She gently squeezed and sighed happily, watching the story unfold on the screen in front of them.

 

The film was brilliant; there was no other word for it. It was every bit as good as the trilogy had been ten years before. Giving Mary's hand a final squeeze, John shifted in his seat and took another sip before resting his arm between them so that it was just touching hers. Mary shifted closer so their arms were pressed along the length of wrist to elbow. She smirked in the dark, almost feeling like a teenager again.

 

About halfway through the film, John glanced at her from the corner of his eye and made a decision. Stretching and yawning, he slipped his arm around her shoulders. Mary raised her eyebrows and had to stifle a giggle. She never figured he'd try _that_ move. She cuddled into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and relaxed considerably, leaning back to watch the rest of the movie.

 

oOoOo

 

They spent the rest of the film like that, only untangling after the credits rolled and the lights came up. "That was _brilliant_ ," she said, standing and stretching, beaming from ear to ear.

 

"He's going to make us wait an _entire_ year to finish the tale. It really wasn't fair where he ended it...although, I can't think of anywhere else you'd stop the story. But yes, it was just that. Brilliant." John slipped his hand into hers as they walked out into the evening air, the stars beginning to come out

 

"I _know_!" she said, commiserating. Mary took a deep breath of the night air, smiling as he held her hand, looking up at the bright winking of stars that were beginning to show themselves. "Dinner?" she said.

 

"Of course." There was a cafe down the road with the best soup and salad anywhere in England, at least, that was John's opinion.

 

She gasped as she saw where he was taking her. "No _way_! This is one of my favorite places to eat," she exclaimed.

 

"You're joking."

 

"Honestly not! Best soup and salad in England."

 

"Of course!" He ordered them chicken noodle sound and Caesar salad to share and got them each a mug of tea to drink. "Bon appetite."

 

"Indeed," she said, beaming. They ate and talked and drank their tea, leaving only when it was almost closing time, and John, ever the gentleman, offered her his arm again as he began to walk her back to her flat.

 

Mary went to take it, and her foot caught on a crack in the sidewalk. She began to pitch forward and threw out her hands to catch herself.

 

"Mary!" He caught her, pulling her back up and close, and her mouth crashed into John's as he caught her, colliding almost painfully.

 

"Oh, I am _so_ sorry," she said, completely mortified but exhilarated at how close he was holding her.

 

He pulled back slightly, blood rushing to his face. They hadn't kissed yet, and that wasn't how he'd imagined it would go the first time. "It's...fine," he said, smiling to show no damage was done. He made sure she was steady before taking her arm and _then_ setting off again

 

Mary was a brilliant shade of red as they walked back to her flat. She hadn't imagined their first kiss on the mouth to be accidental. Did it count as a kiss, then? She didn't think so, mulling the thought over as they reached her flat. She started when she realized where they were...at her doorstep. "Thank you for the evening...I had an amazing time," she said softly.

 

"As did I," he replied,  letting go of her arm to caress her cheek gently. "You looked absolutely beautiful tonight, Mary," he murmured.

 

She flushed and smiled, eyes downcast. "You clean up nicely yourself," she said, smiling, leaning into his touch.

 

John leaned in, almost hesitantly before closing the distance with a real kiss. Mary sighed as their lips met, feeling a shiver of pleasure run up her spine. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His eyebrow quirked slightly; he'd intended to be gentle and careful but now...he drew her into his arms and ran his tongue along the seam in her lips. Mary opened her mouth to his questing tongue, darting her own between his lips to taste him.

 

Tongues twining, John breathed through his nose to keep from getting too dizzy but soon stopped caring, one hand at the small of her back and the other tangling in the hair at the base of her skull. One hand was fisted in his soft hair, the other was clutching at the lapels of his coat as they kissed, long and hard. The nurse finally had to break for air, her hazel eyes nearly yellow from the way her pupils had dilated, her lips swollen, and her breath coming in gasps.

 

John hissed at the sudden rush of air into his lungs and leaned his forehead against hers. "Not too shabby...for a first kiss," he teased, feeling warm and happy.

 

"I quite concur," she murmured, leaning against him as well, chuckling gently.

 

"Wouldn't mind doing that again sometime."

 

She took another breath and pulled him back to her, lips crashing together as she gave him what they both wanted. He moaned into her mouth, not having expected it to happen so soon. It was harder and hotter than before, especially once John had backed her up against the wall outside her flat. She gasped as her back hit the wall, feeling a tingle run up her spine as John moaned into her mouth. She whimpered back, losing herself in the hot, wet slide of their tongues against each other and the feeling of their lips moving together.

 

John broke the kiss this time, trailing his lips down, and Mary let out an unintentional little cry as his lips found her neck, tilting her head back as much as she could to grant him better access to the skin of her throat. The doctor licked and trailed his teeth along her pale throat before sucking gently.

 

"Ah... _John_ ," she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as her fingers wound through his sandy blonde hair, tugging lightly. Encouraged, he sucked a little harder, his hand untangling from her hair to stroke her cheek and cup her head. She nearly purred as she melted into his touch, the feeling of him sucking on her neck keeping her on edge.

 

Placing a final kiss to her damp neck, John pulled back and claimed her mouth for another few seconds before pulling away. "I think I should go home," he murmured.

 

She sighed, resigned. "Yeah, unfortunately," she replied.

 

He smiled at her, brushing her bangs back from her face. "I'll see you again. I don't kiss and run."

 

"Good, because I don't intend to let you go."

 

"Quite bold of you," he smirked, kissing the back of her hand before turning to go.

 

She flushed brightly at the courtly gesture. "Good night, sweet prince," she called after him.

 

"Nymph in thy orisons," he called back.

 

"Be all my sins remembered," she murmured softly, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Peter Jackson film is intended to be "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey," and yes, we did realized that the month was wrong for the actual release date (like, after we'd written the entire chapter), so pretend that the film actually comes out in early October.


	16. Siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resentful younger brother and concerned older brother...how the two shall always be at odds

Setting down his grade book, Sherlock resisted the urge to break something; he was going to kill Mycroft when the ponce returned from Italy for saddling him with this job. All the younger Holmes wanted was to stick to academics and papers from now on, and, as if on cue, his mobile rang. _Speak of the devil._ Rolling his eyes, he answered. "Yes?"

 

"Hello, brother dear. Just wanted to see how you're doing," Mycroft drawled.

 

"Just marvelous thanks." Sarcasm dripped from every syllable. "Eaten yourself sick yet?"

 

"Oh, so witty. Any more acting tricks?" Mycroft retorted.

 

"They did quite well with today's exercise, thank you. You'll have to start a brand new diet when you get back or none of your clothes will fit."

 

"Ah ha ha, yes, keep mocking me, even after I helped you keep your job," Mycroft said. He knew that Sherlock hated being reminded that he owed him a debt.

 

"I could have found work just fine on my own. I didn't need your incessant meddling. Did you get me this job just so you would know where I was and what I was doing at all times? Hmmm?"

 

Mycroft snorted. "Hardly. As much as I loathe to admit it, you are the best candidate to fill in for me while I'm away."

 

"Clearly not if you had to step in for me."

 

"I said best candidate, not the wisest."

 

"Fine, poke fun and ridicule. That's all I've gotten every day of my life. Makes no difference if it's my brother or strangers."

 

Mycroft sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, Sherly," he said, the words foreign in his mouth.

 

Sherlock's brow furrowed. "You never apologize. Why now?"

 

"Because sometimes it's the right thing to say. I know how stressful a teaching job is, so I know exactly how you feel."

 

"Th-thank you, Mycey," Sherlock said, sighing heavily. "It's a nightmare. Nonstop grading, the planning is fine because I love what I study, but they're unmotivated and insolent and don't do their work and only two students are passing with flying colors, half the class is failing..." He trailed off, exhausted and frustrated.

 

Mycroft made a noise of sympathy. "As much as we try to nurture their minds, they are adamant to ignore it. It's only natural that you feel so frustrated. And, as much as I loathe suggesting this to you, you may have to...dumb down the material somewhat," he said, wrinkling his nose at the phrase.

 

"No. I've brought it down as it is. I'm practically spoon-feeding them the answers just to get them to participate!"

 

Mycroft sighed again. "Then you've done all that you can do. You just have to let them crash and burn sometimes," he said sadly.

 

"Trying to teach me lessons again while you're gone? You _never_ stop, do you?"

 

He made a frustrated noise. "I'm trying to _help_ you, Sherlock!" he said, voice slightly angry. This always happened when he really was trying to give his baby brother advice or guidance; it was thrown back into his face with sarcasm and insults.

 

"You've done nothing _but_ try to help me my entire life and every time I listen to you, it ends badly for me!" Sherlock nearly threw his mobile across the room in frustration. "And _why_ didn't you tell me John was teaching here?"

 

He blinked. "It honestly slipped my mind," he admitted.

 

"Oh, so mentioning that the man I was-I am best friends with, my _only_ friend is here just missed the memo? Well, thank you as always for your insights brother. I can handle my life on my own!"

 

Mycroft winced as the connection was cut off. He sighed again and looked sadly at the phone. Some days, like today, he wished so hard that he and his brother were... _normal_.


	17. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seb is still really jealous, but he needs to not push Jim too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earned the Light BDSM tag, you know, just as a heads up

Jim lounged on his bed, humming to himself and stretching languidly. Molly had been ever so wonderful an hour before; she was just getting better and better with every go, and he was still riding out the bliss he got from his release with her.

 

Seb stormed into the room, slamming the door open so hard that it nearly broke, looking thunderous. He would never admit it to Jim's face, but he was jealous of the time that he was spending with Molly and feeling very neglected...and seeing his lover stretched out on the bed, looking very sated and well-fucked just made his temper worse.

 

"Oi, watch the door. I'm not paying for a new one."

 

Seb glared at him. "Why should you care what I do anymore?" he spat.

 

Jim propped himself up with his arms, eyeing the man and rolling his head side to side before saying a single word. "Jealous."

 

"Fuck you. Well, no, sorry, you have _Molly_ for that now," he said.

 

"That's what your problem is? I'm not sleeping with you enough? Petty Tiger-"

 

"That's not my problem! What I have a problem with is being used and then cast aside like some piece of _trash_ ," Seb snarled.

 

" _You_ are the one who offered in the first place," Jim pointed out softly, anger beginning to boil in his gut.

 

"Yeah, more fool me."

 

"Fine, you don't want to talk, then keep your mouth shut. I'm thinking about beating up Anderson again tomorrow if you want to help. I have a free period before English."

 

Seb paused. He needed something to take his festering rage out on, and Dino-Dick was the perfect target. He grinned, despite his anger. "Yeah, that'd be good."

 

"Nine-thirty outside of Holmes's classroom. Don't be late or I'll kill you."

 

"Of course, Boss."

 

oOoOo

 

The next day came quickly, and Seb was outside of Holmes' classroom before the appointed time, nerves on edge the way they always were before a fight.

 

Jim sauntered forward with Anderson in tow. "So, where's money for lending you my notes, Dino-dick?"

 

"I don't have it," Anderson said, sweat beginning to bead on his brow as he saw Seb standing there, looking menacing as usual.

 

"Really? Remember what I said last time you refused to pay me?" The change in Anderson's pallor told him that the boy did. "Seb, just a warning to him, I think. Break his nose and fracture his right wrist."

 

Seb grinned like a shark and wound up his fist, delivering a straight jab to Anderson's face, relishing in the sound of cracking bone and the give of cartilage. As Anderson shrieked and went to cover his face, the taller boy caught his left wrist and _twisted_ , hearing the bones grind and pop before they snapped, leaving his hand hanging limply at a strange angle.

 

"MORAN! MORIARTY!"

 

" _Fuck_ ," Seb hissed. They had been caught.

 

Sherlock came striding up, glancing at Anderson. "You're excused to the nurse. Get the notes from someone." As the sallow skinned boy scurried away, Sherlock rounded on the trouble makers. "I'd send you to the Headmaster, but that would _deprive_ you of class, so I won't do that. You _will_ report to him after class today, but before that, thank you both for volunteering to read today."

 

Seb snarled at the tall, lanky man in front of him. He fucking hated this professor, and from the look of barely contained rage on Jim's face, he could see that his lover felt the same.

 

"Quit your scowling and go take your seats. Look over Act Four, Scene Five." As the boys trudged into the room, Sherlock called, "Moran, you're Petruchio and Moriarty, you're Katherine."

 

Seb had to stifle a giggle...Jim as a _girl_? That's just too funny. He looked over the scene, scowl growing deeper as he read. Jim was a girl...who was in charge. Great. Just _great_.

 

Sherlock got out the homework and papers to hand back, glancing over the scene and writing due dates on the board: topics for the final papers were due the next class.

 

Seb sighed as he looked over the scene again. No doubt they were _never_ going to live this down.

 

oOoOo

 

The rest of class began filing in a few minutes later, whispering intently as soon as they saw Jim and Seb already there; the boys were usually among the last to enter. Even Molly was running a little late that day. The girl walked in, surprise etched on her features as she saw the boys already present. Both were scowling and had books in front of them...so they were reading. She wondered what parts they were doing, and sat back to watch the drama unfold.

 

Once homework had been handed in and deadlines reviewed, Sherlock picked up his copy of the play. "Now, today we have a treat as we already have volunteers for our reading. You have all finished the play by now, and we have our own Jim Moriarty as Katherine and Sebastian Moran as Petruchio reading Act Four, Scene Five. Mr. Twig if you would read Hortensio and Mr. Bradley if you would read Vincentio when we get there. Readers to the front," he ordered before taking a seat in the back corner of the room.

 

There was a ripple of laughter as the parts were announced and Molly had to bite down hard on her knuckles to keep from sniggering herself. Oh, this should be _interesting_. Seb scowled and began reading Petruchio's part. "Come on, i' God's name; once more toward our father's. Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!"

 

Jim shot him a look of pure venom. "The moon! the sun: it is not moonlight now."

 

Seb retorted, despite Jim's scary look; "I say it is the moon that shines so bright."

 

"I _know_ it is the sun that shines so bright." Jim insisted.

 

Seb scowled. This was beginning to ring slightly too true to their own arguments... "Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself, it shall be moon, or star, or what I list, ere I journey to your father's house. Go on, and fetch our horses back again. Evermore cross'd and cross'd; nothing but cross'd!"

 

Jim tuned out Twig as he interjected his line, his focus completely on Sebastian. He was determined to get the bastard to listen to him now. "Forward, I pray, since we have come so far, And be it moon, or sun, or what you please: An if you please to call it a rush-candle, Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me." Except, as he was speaking, he realized the words betrayed him.

 

"I say it is the moon," Seb shot back.

 

The boy bit his tongue until it almost bled, speaking through clenched teeth. "I know it is the moon."

 

Seb smiled...oh this was turning in his favor, and he _liked_ it. "Nay, then, you lie: it is the blessed sun."

 

The blonde had him, and Jim was so, so screwed. "Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun: But sun it is not, when you say it is not; And the moon changes even as your mind. What you will have it named, even that it is; And so it shall be so for Katharina." He didn't submit to anyone, but he could see the flash of triumph in Seb's eyes.

 

The older boy nearly laughed aloud in glee and triumph as 'Hortensio' told him that he had won and they should just _go_ already. He was smiling so broadly that he almost couldn't deliver his next lines. "Well, forward, forward! thus the bowl should run, and not unluckily against the bias. But, soft! company is coming here."

 

Jim's face burned with anger and humiliation as the scene finished and the class erupted in catcalls and applause. He trudged back to his seat and flopped down, already planning his confrontation of the boy for that night. Seb knew that Jim was going to take this out of his hide later, but he didn't care...it was _worth_ it as he sauntered back to his seat, slouching into it and looking quite pleased with himself. Jim didn't hear any of the rest of the lecture, just passing Sebastian a note saying their dorm after class and to forget about detention; the genius was the first one out the door when they were dismissed. Seb's merriment faded a bit as he read the note; even the strokes of Jim's pen looked angry. He still walked back to the dorm with a spring in his step though.

 

When he opened the door to their room, he couldn't resist, and called out "Dearest Kat, I'm hoooome!"

 

The first punch landed squarely on the taller boy's jaw, giving Jim enough time to shut and lock the door, barring it with a chair

 

Seb's head rocked back as he took the punch. "Fucking _hell_!" he roared, rounding on the smaller man, eyes blazing. Then he saw the door was locked and barred with a chair and he felt his face grow pale. _Shit_.

 

"What. The. _Fuck_. Was. That?" Jim said very softly, backing Sebastian up into their room and against the wall.

 

Seb rubbed his now-bruised jaw. "What, I can't have a bit of fun? Even if I do hate the class, that was probably the only time I'll ever win an argument against you. And it wasn't even _real_. So calm the fuck down."

 

Jim stared up at him, wishing for one of the first times in his life that he were taller. "You want to know why you will never win against me? Because I'm smarter. You're just my hired man, Sebastian."

 

Seb towered over him. "Well, get a load of this, _Boss_...I _quit_."

 

The smaller boy jabbed him in the solar plexus, driving the air from Seb's lungs before grabbing his hair and yanking him to his knees. " _No one_ quits me, _understand_?" he whispered, his voice barely audible but completely, deadly serious.

 

Seb gasped as the air was forced from his lungs and Jim grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to his knees. The look in the smaller man's eyes was frightening, and Seb had to say, for the first time in his life, he was afraid of James Moriarty. "Understood, sir," he said hoarsely.

 

"You get all sulky because I'm sleeping with my girlfriend and not shagging you as often as you like, you use class _in front of everyone_ as a good time to try and settle our little _dispute_. And no matter what you or anyone says, Sebastian Moran, _I_ wear the pants in our relationship-"

 

"I dunno, I think you'd look nice in a dress," Seb muttered under his breath.

 

Jim's face went white. "What was that?" he asked quietly.

 

"Said I think you'd look nice in a dress," Seb repeated, each word clear and crisp. He knew that he was playing with fire, but he didn't care.

 

"Why? So you can look up my skirt?"

 

The taller man snickered. "Yeah. Frilly knickers and _everything_."

 

"I do not submit to _anyone_ , Sebastian."

 

"Says the man who's had my cock up his arse..."

 

"So, _you_ usually do the buggering in your relationships? Hmmm? You're the 'big man' around campus?"

 

Seb grinned slowly, more of a leer than anything else. "Of course, Jimmy," he drawled.

 

Getting a good hold of the boy's throat, Jim dragged Seb over to his dresser and retrieved a few of his older ties before winding Seb again and shoving him down on Jim's bed. When the blonde could breathe again, he was bound by his wrists to the headboard. "Mother _fucker_!" he hissed, pulling at the knots, but they held tight.

 

Jim retrieved three more ties, one of them Sebastian's from the only suit he owned. Jim stripped Seb's lower half with slight difficulty before binding his ankles to the end of the bed. Thrashing, the blonde man tried to stave off the inevitable. But Jim was quick. In no time, his trousers and underwear were off and his ankles were bound in a similar fashion to his wrists.

 

"Now then, I have a half naked man in my bed. Whatever should I do, hmmmm? What do _you_ think Sebastian?"

 

Seb glared at him and spat in Jim's face.

 

Jim slowly wiped the saliva from his skin and dried his hand on Seb's shirt. Tricky, pale fingers reached out and played around the skin of Seb's length. "You can't tell me you haven't imagined this, Sebby...to _know_ what it is to be dominated... _owned_..."

 

Hissing, Seb arched into the light touch as he started to harden.

 

"You have accused me, humiliated me, cursed at me, attempted to dominate me-"

 

"So?"

 

The boy's eyes narrowed slightly. "I've been _very_ lenient with you ever since that first time, but it would seem I've left the discipline off for _far_ too long. You have forgotten who _owns_ you, who got you out of that party, who nursed you back from alcohol poisoning, got you sober,  who defended your sorry arse."

 

Seb felt a brief and unexpected twinge of guilt. But this was no time for backing down. He said nothing, merely glaring at his lover.

 

"So, I think it's time my little pet learned the rules all over again."

 

He paled. He vaguely remembered the last time he had been taught the 'rules' and he had nearly passed out from the pain. This time was going to be something different but equally as heinous. It always was with Jim. Setting Seb's tie down, Jim pulled out his pocket knife, cutting the shirt from the boy's body and shredding it until the blonde was completely bare

 

"Fuck, I _liked_ that shirt."

 

The knife was less than a centimeter from Seb's nose before the boy had time to blink. Seb went slightly cross-eyed, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he looked at the blade of the knife that was a hairsbreadth from his skin. Two flicks of it left two thin lines of red, matching scratches on Seb's cheeks. "If you aren't careful, I'll carve my initials into your skin."

 

He hissed in pain at the sting of his opened skin. "Yes, _sir,_ " he ground out. As much as he hated it...now he had to behave.

 

Grinning, Jim buried the knife in the wall as he climbed up onto Seb. "Now then, my very own _Tiger_...what to play with first, I wonder..."

 

Seb curled his lip in a snarl but said nothing. Best not to give him ideas.

 

"What's that? You want me to wank you? Blow you? Ride you?" Jim saw the man's eye twitch at the last one. "Oohhhhh, fantasizing about your cock in my arse again, aren't you?"

 

He could feel himself twitching and hardening as Jim said wonderfully filthy things. He couldn't help his eye from twitching slightly as Jim mentioned riding him; he loved being inside of Jim. The smaller boy leaned closer, his lips just barely brushing Seb's ear. "You want to be inside me? To feel me as I slide and rock and squeeze? To devour my mouth and take exactly what you want? Just like I _ordered_ that first time?"

 

A strangled noise came out of Seb's mouth. "Yesss," he hissed.

 

"To suck on my tongue....to bite and tease my nipples...to play with my cock...to make me come screaming your name..."

 

Seb nearly whimpered and bucked his hips up, wanting _exactly_ that.

 

The smaller boy slid backwards so his cheeks just brushed Seb's hardened length. "Like that, Tiger?"

 

"Yes," he said, voice strangled.

 

Jim started rocking back gently, teasing the blond beneath him.

 

"Ffff- _fuck_ , Jim..." Seb gasped, arching his hips upwards, trying to move as much as his bonds would allow.

 

Jim took Seb's nipples and twisted _hard_. "Don't you dare. _I_ set the rules and the pace."

 

He hissed in pain and pleasure combined as Jim twisted his nipples hard. "Yes, _sir_."

 

"Oooooooh!" the boy squealed, clapping his hands. "Even calling me 'sir!' Very, very good, Tiger." He reached into the side table for the lube. "Tests came back negative."

 

Seb whimpered; he actually _whimpered_. He knew what was coming, and he wanted it so bad...

 

Jim climbed off the boy again and stripped very slowly and teasingly, making sure Seb watched every single move he made. The taller boy's mouth watered as he saw Jim strip off his clothes, one garment at a time, moving slowly, sensually. He tugged at his restraints again, but they held tight.

 

"Try to break free and you'll be _very_ sorry," Jim said casually as he toed off his shoes before pulling off one sock at a time, using Seb's thigh for balance. Sebastian nodded and stopped struggling, clutching at the ties that held him in place.

 

Once he was bare, his own cock swiftly hardening, Jim climbed back up onto his lover to resume his earlier teasing. Seb arched his back, aching for more skin -to- skin contact.

 

"Such a _needy_ little cat you are," Jim growled as he picked up the bottle of lube. He lay down on Seb's chest and toyed with the half-full bottle. "So many uses for this, don't you think?"

 

He bit his lip and nodded. Sliding down the muscled chest and abdomen of his captive roommate, Jim popped the cap off the lube and coated his fingers. "So...never had anything up you before, have you?" he smirked.

 

"Course I have," Seb ground out.

 

"But I thought you said you were the 'big man' who did all the buggering earlier."

 

"That's while I've been here. Never specified, did you?"

 

Jim slipped a finger all the way into Seb's arse, twisting and pumping. "But not in _ages_ then, hmmmm?"

 

"JESUSFUCKINGCHRIST!"

 

Jim removed the finger, cocking his head at Sebby. "Oh dear, _what_ will the neighbors think?" Taking Seb's discarded tie, Jim gagged the man. "Much better," he whispered before burying his finger back in Seb's hole. Seb roared behind the gag, bucking up into Jim. It _hurt_ but he had forgotten how good it felt as well.

 

"Goodness me, so _noisy_."

 

He growled, the noise and vibration coming from deep within his chest. Adding more lube, Jim added a second finger, studying Seb's face carefully as he worked. The blonde's eyes nearly rolled back in his head as Jim added a second finger, his mouth clenching on the gag as his body got used to the invasion.

 

"I just love that it's your own tie you're ruining with your saliva," Jim smirked as he curled his fingers. Seb glared, then keened as Jim curled his fingers, his body afire with sensation.

 

Twisting his fingers slightly, Jim removed them and slicked himself up liberally, excited to try this. He stroked the hole with his tip, slicking it with pre-cum and lube. Seb whimpered as he felt the tip of Jim's cock pressing and stroking at his entrance, feeling his own cock twitch and jump. Jim leaned down and licked Seb once from base to tip before lining up and properly pressing into the man

 

It was completely different from being in any girl he'd ever shagged, hotter and _much_ tighter. The boy groaned and trembled as Seb surrounded him completely. "Well...my oh my..."

 

Seb couldn't hold back a chuckle as he saw the expression on Jim's face, but he stayed still in case he was punished. He wanted this _so_ bad that he'd swallow his pride.

 

Experimentally, Jim snapped his hips. "Like that?" he asked, grinning

 

Seb nearly wailed and nodded, wanting _more_.

 

Loosening the gag, Jim leaned down and whispered, "I want to hear you _begging_ , 'Bastian...tell me all the nasty things you want me to do to you."

 

Swallowing hard, Seb spoke. "Want-you-to-fuck-me...fuck me hard... _sir_."

 

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Jim could feel his muscles threatening to seize up with the effort of holding still

 

Again swallowing his pride, Seb did one thing he had never done before: begged. " _Please_..."

 

The boy drew back to gaze into Seb's eyes, pupils completely blown wide. Jim whispered "All right," against the blonde's lips before pulling out and driving back into him, capturing his mouth to muffle his sounds. All of his cries were trapped with Jim's mouth as he began a rough rhythm and pace. Seb thought he was going to fly off the edge already, but knew that he wouldn't.

 

It was marvelous; Jim had the fleeting thought that he might never want to do anything else ever again. Paying close attention to Sebastian, Jim noted when he looked close and dropped his hand down to squeeze the man's cock hard while he continued to nail him with everything he had. A wordless wail escaped Seb's lips as Jim's fingers circled the base of his cock and _squeezed_ , staving off his climax as he continued his thrusts.

 

The dark haired boy bit Seb's lips. "I want you to make me come for you," Jim said, "if you can, that is."

 

Seb snarled. Challenge _accepted_. He squeezed himself around Jim, clenching his already tight muscles tighter. Jim gulped, body shaking uncontrollably as he kept thrusting and rolling his hips and grinding against Sebastian, his hand continuing to clench the base of the other boy's cock. Snapping his hips up, the blonde kept squeezing. Then he remembered that his mouth was no longer bound by the gag, so he reared back, sank his teeth into Jim's shoulder and bit down hard. The pale boy almost came, squeaking and whining at the boy's teeth in his shoulder

 

Seb _purred_ , the rumbling growl vibrating through his mouth to Jim. He removed his teeth only to whisper "Jim... _sir_..." in a breathless gasp.

 

Jim squeezed in retaliation, fighting to hold out. Seb cried out, half in pain. "OhgodJim _please_..." he begged.

 

"No."

 

"Please... _sir_...I'm...I'm begging you," he finally whimpered.

 

"You don't get to until I have."

 

Seb let out a frustrated snarl and sank his teeth back into Jim's shoulder and snapped his hips up hard, squeezing around him, almost willing the other boy to come so he could put an end to this torture. Jim had never moved harder or faster than he was right then until he brushed a spot in Seb and had a hard time keeping the boy from coming. The boy's eyes rolled back and his mouth dropped open as the tip of Jim's cock hit his prostate, a strangled gasp escaping from him as well as a stream of expletives when he was still kept from climaxing.

 

Two more thrusts, both hitting the boy's sweet spot and it was all over for Jim. He emptied himself into Seb, gasping and whimpering the boy's name but not letting him come, a plan forming in his head. Seb was nearly crying, the pleasurepain almost too much to bear as he felt Jim empty himself into him, whimpering his name. Jim pulled out and reached into a hidden drawer in his table, pulling out a smooth, solid, metal cylinder. "Know what this is, Sebby?"

 

Seb's eyes widened and he nodded. Jim reached down and inserted it, pressing it into Seb and trapping his release in the boy before standing and cleaning himself up

 

"Ffffuck...Jim... _Boss_...please...let me finish," Sebby pleaded, clenching uncomfortably around the cold metal inside him.

 

"And why should I?" Jim asked as he got dressed and checked his bag and his watch.

 

"You _promised_ ," he said, sounding all the world like a petulant child.

 

"I did?" Where exactly did I spell it out that I'd let you come?"

 

"You _said_...As soon as you had...that you'd let me..." Seb said.

 

"Okay, so I'll let you. You are free to come if you can," he said before turning, moving the chair and marching out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

 

Seb nearly cried in frustration, pain, and denied pleasure, tied up to his bed, helpless. Now he truly knew who wore the pants in their little relationship.


	18. The River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Seb should really be more careful

Looking at the calendar on his desk in his office, Sherlock shook his head. He could hardly believe they were going into November already, three plays down and one to go. Participation hadn't improved, but at least the grades were finally leveling out.

 

Molly sighed as she checked off another day on the calendar: November, nearing the end. Classes were starting to wind down and prepare for finals with professors handing out last minute projects and papers. In her English Lit class, they were getting into _Much Ado About Nothing_ , which proved to be an interesting read. It was one of Shakespeare's rare comedies, and she found herself enjoying it almost as much as she loved the tragedies.

 

Class went along much the same as it always did, handing back papers, feeding them the answers, assigning homework that was half arsed by all but two students; Sherlock thought he was going to suffocate from boredom. At least they were starting to work on their final papers which gave him a break from the regular drivel to at least shift his focus a bit. He still planned to do something horrible to Mycroft when the ponce returned for Christmas break; no way he'd let Mummy down on tradition.

 

oOoOo

 

It was now nearly December, final papers were being worked in lieu of the usual homework (which made everyone breathe a sigh of relief) and they were drawing to the end of Much Ado. They had not, as of yet, acted a scene in class, which was starting to make some people antsy. "Maybe he's forgotten?" Molly overheard someone say, to which she was highly tempted to reply "Don't be stupid." She knew that Professor Holmes wouldn't forget that...if, indeed, he ever forgot anything.

 

"You have all finished reading the play, and I know you are all wondering about reading a scene for this unit. Never fear. With the test coming on Thursday, it is only fitting that we should read something from the end of the play to refresh your little memories about it...Moran- Benedick, Hooper-Beatrice, Moriarty- Leonato, Twig- Claudio, Donovan- Hero, Act Five, Scene Four where Beatrice reveals herself. Readers to the front," he finished as he moved to the back of the room to watch

 

Molly gulped. _She and Seb. Oh boy_. She took her book and her place at the front of the classroom, eyes flicking over the scene quickly as she got into the fiery, feisty character that was Beatrice.

 

Seb groaned as he hauled himself to the front of the class; he was so fucking done already. Glancing through the scene, he took in the sappy nature of it, but his eyes lingered over the stage direction of the kiss. Well, if there was one thing that would let him test the competition and make Jim jealous at the same time, he now knew what it was. "Which is Beatrice?"

 

"I answer to that name. What is your will?" Molly asked, arms crossed in front of her as she boldly looked at Seb, her face cool and indifferent but lit with an inner fire.

 

Jim was certainly right about her spirit and her power. "Do not you love me?" Part of him, a secret part, wished he could say those words to Jim and have the answer be yes.

 

She snorted. "Why, no; no more than reason," she retorted.

 

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why, then your uncle and the prince and Claudio/ Have been deceived; they swore you did."

 

Now she looked puzzled...and hopeful. "Do not you love me?"

 

"Troth, no; no more than reason." _Served her right_.

 

She raised an eyebrow. "Why, then my cousin Margaret and Ursula are much deceived; for they did swear you did."

 

"They swore that you were almost sick for me."

 

"They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me."

 

"'Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?"

 

"No, truly, but in friendly recompense."

 

Jim spoke his lines, watching the scene carefully. "Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman."

 

Twig spoke his lines; "And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her; for here's a paper written in his hand, a halting sonnet of his own pure brain, fashion'd to Beatrice."

 

Then Donovan added hers. "And here's another writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, containing her affection unto Benedick."

 

Seb couldn't help but grin, as if he were catching Molly at her own game. "A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts./ Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take/ thee for pity"

 

Molly sniffed derisively, but couldn't help but add a sheepish and nearly shy grin of her own. "I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption."

 

Moment of truth. "Peace! I will stop your mouth," Seb replied and dropping his play, he grabbed her hand, pulled her close and kissed her hard with plenty of tongue, using every trick he'd learned with Jim to claim her lips as his own and see _just_ what was so appealing to Jim about the girl.

 

Molly's eyes went wide as Seb grabbed her and kissed her, hard and well. For a moment, she responded, and then she remembered who he was, where they were, and what was going on. She shoved him away and slapped him, hard, across the face. Her cheeks were red, her eyes were snapping with anger and confusion, and her breath was coming short. The classroom was deathly silent.

 

Seb's cheek stung and he swallowed his grin. He could see why now. She did nothing for him, but she had an intensity that was almost blinding when she got going, and Jim did so love intensity. The self proclaimed king of the school was speechless and silently fuming, possessiveness bubbling up in him that he'd never experienced before. How dare _Seb_ kiss anyone else. Nothing about Molly, and that should have told him something, but he was too wrapped up in his fury with the blonde boy to notice or care.

 

Sherlock was on his feet and moving down to them. "Miss Hooper, why don't you excuse yourself and cool down," he suggested. "The rest of you, back to your seats. In class assignment: the role of misdirection in Much Ado."

 

She shakily nodded, fleeing the classroom. The first place she went was the bathroom to rinse out her mouth and wash her face. She was trembling. After this class was over, she needed to have a talk with her boyfriend.

 

Jim was the first to finish, and, snatching his and Seb's assignments, he handed them in before rushing back to his room, knowing the boy would follow. Seb smirked and followed Jim almost lazily, hands tucked into his pockets. They went back to their dorm room, and Seb took his time in removing his scarf and coat, hanging them up on the wall pegs.

 

"You have no idea what you're playing with."

 

"Oh, I think I do. I wanted to see exactly _why_ you wanted Kitten, and I was able to. Does nothing for me, so you don't have anything to worry about," Seb drawled.

 

"And what did your amazing powers of Neanderthal intelligence conclude?" Jim asked from where he leaned against the wall

 

"That intensity she has. _That's_ what gets you all hot and bothered," Seb said, moving closer.

 

Molly made her way to Jim and Seb's door. She knocked, but there was no answer, and she noted that the door was open slightly. She nearly knocked again, but heard them talking and decided to wait until they were done, and she couldn't help but hear what they were saying.

 

"Well yes, she has a definite fire and is quite the little lioness in the sack when she gets going and stops being so timid...of course, _you_ aren't allowed to touch her because no one but me is allowed to touch you. Remember? Or do I have to re-train you?"

 

"No, you don't have to do that. Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Not going to do that again, ever," Seb said quickly. He smirked again and walked closer to the smaller man. "Besides...the only one I want is you," he said before claiming Jim's mouth in a searing kiss.

 

Molly's eyes went wide and she felt her heart freeze and shatter. She let her satchel fall from numb fingers to hit the floor with a clatter. _Jim. And Seb_. They were _together_. Jim was _cheating_ on her with _another man_. She remembered what Sally Donovan had said to her months ago, and would have laughed at the irony if it didn't hurt so much.

 

Jim's hands were tangling in Seb's hair when he heard it. Breaking the contact, he whipped around and caught a glimpse of brown hair; that was all he needed. " _Fuck_ ," he groaned, throwing the door open.

 

Molly stared at Jim as he flung open the door with a curse. There was a long silence. "How long has this been going on?" she asked softly. Then she closed her eyes and shook her head. "Never mind. That isn't important. I just..." her breath caught and tears filled her eyes. "I _trusted_ you, Jim! I _loved_ you! Why...? I don't understand..."

 

He couldn't help but smile; she was rather pathetic really. "Love?" he scoffed. "Aren't you a little naive to talk of love? Read too many romances, you have. And I was just reprimanding Sebby here for kissing you in class, especially without permission-"

 

Her eyes hardened. "Permission be damned. Neither you nor he are touching me or coming anywhere _near_ me again. Ever. We're _done_ , James Moriarty," she spat, before picking up her satchel and turning on her heel, burning tears falling down her face as she ran from them, heart in pieces and mind tangled into knots.

 

The boy didn't know how he was supposed to feel as he shut the door and turned back to Sebby. "Huh. Curious." Then, "Oh, she did _not_ just dump me," he hissed, eyes narrowing into slits.

 

Seb's eyebrows were up. "I think she just did exactly that," he mused, looking at her retreating figure from the window.

 

"NO ONE, and you know this well, don't you Tiger, _no one_ quits me. I decide when it's time for them to go."

 

Seb swallowed hard...that was a hard-learned lesson for him. "So... what's going to happen, then?" he asked.

 

"Well, get her back, obviously. Now, don't give me that face. If she won't come back, then I'll dispose of her."

 

Seb's eyes went wide. "Dispose...? Jim, that's..." he was going to say 'crazy', but he saw the light in Jim's eyes and wisely held his tongue. If he wanted to keep his anatomy intact, he knew that silence was best.

 

oOoOo

 

Jim knew it wouldn't take much to get her to follow him, to come to him; she _had_ spoken of love, so slipping a note under her door was easy. Now he just had to wait for her by the old willow, wrapped up in his coat only because Sebby had insisted. He didn't care if he got cold. Anyway, soon it wouldn't matter.

 

Molly picked up the note, the slanting handwriting instantly recognizable. _His_ handwriting.

 

_Meet me at the old willow at nine tonight. I need to see you, just one last time. Jim_

 

She crushed the note and damned her heart, glancing at the clock; she could still make it if she walked quickly. She donned her coat and walked out the door, making her way down to the silent, deserted area of the willow and the riverbank, deserted save for one figure. "Hello, Jim," she said quietly.

 

"Evening Kitten," Jim said, leaning against the tree and watching the river coursing sluggishly with its new layers of ice. "I really was hoping you'd come."

 

She flinched at the nickname. "Don't call me that," she said, her voice sharp. "I came here to tell you that no matter what you say, whatever sweet talking you do, it's not going to get me to come back to you. I said that we're done, and I meant it," she finished, her voice now weary.

 

"You should be careful, Kitten. Don't say things you'll regret."

 

She glared at him, then her face softened into an expression of sadness. "I don't regret it. You...you're clearly happier with him than you ever were with me. You don't need me. You never did. So, Jim, this is goodbye."

 

He cocked his head to one side before rolling his neck, oscillating his head ever so slightly. "So, that's your choice, then."

 

Molly sighed. "Yes, it is."

 

He held out his hand, his mind already made up. She took it, thinking that it was a simple handshake, a farewell between two adults. Lightning fast, he yanked her forward, hands at her throat. " _No one_ says no to me," he growled before dragging her down the bank of the river.

 

Molly's eyes went wide and she clawed at the frighteningly strong hands at her throat, her feet slipping in the mud and the snow, not gaining any traction as he forced her to the water's edge.

 

"And thus, the fair Ophelia, her heart broken by her lover and then by her father's death, did tragically drown in the river," he hissed and forced her head through the thin ice and into the freezing water.

 

She choked; her lungs burning as she screamed, bubbles escaping into the dark, freezing water of the river. Soon, Molly had nothing left to scream with; there was no air left, and though she kicked and fought and struggled, he was too strong and the water too cold. It sapped her strength.

 

Her eyes darkened and she knew no more, losing consciousness.

 

A soon as he saw her eyes close, Jim let go and ran, both thrilled and slightly sick at what he'd done. Seb would be doing the dirty work from then on until he got used to it, the fleeting thought that he wouldn't mind watching if Sebastian killed for him warming him until he no longer felt the cold.


	19. Too Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Molly survive? Or will she drown, frozen in the river?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've made you wait long enough. Or not, but I wanted to get this up today.

Sherlock couldn't explain what had kept him at school after hours that day. It certainly wasn't grading papers and tests; frankly, he was sick of them. He wanted Mycroft to return so he could escape into a library and never emerge again, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Walking by the river towards the willow tree, towards his and John's spot, his coat done up and his scarf tight around his neck, he mulled over everything he'd done and gone through since arriving, distracted suddenly by the footprints in the lightly snow-dusted ground. Following them to the tree, he glanced over the clear marks of a scuffle and dragging of a body down to the..."Oh my god!"

 

He rushed to the bank and dragged the body from the river. Molly's face was turning blue and she clearly wasn't breathing; she'd been there at least two minutes if not more. Without thinking, he started CPR, knowing there wasn't enough time to get her anywhere without losing her: rhythmic pulses to her chest, trying fervently to get her heart going and then breathing air into her and repeating, hoping that something in his life would go right for once in his miserable existence.

 

With a terrible wrenching cough, Molly expelled two lungfuls of river water from her chest, before coughing more in the icy air, shivering as she felt ice starting to rime her hair and her face. There was warmth, beautiful, searing warmth, and she turned to it, not caring what it was or where it came from. Her eyes were still fuzzy, and all she could make out was a dark shape. Sherlock helped her to sit up so she wouldn't inhale any more of the water before taking off his coat and wrapping her in it, scooping her into his arms and fishing his mobile from his pocket and dialing.

 

"John, I need help. Molly Hooper just nearly drowned."

 

"Wh- _what_? Jesus Christ, Sherlock! I'm on my way." The doctor grimly dialed 999 for an ambulance and hot-footed it down to the riverbank, thanking whatever deities there were that he had decided to stay after to grade papers that night. If he hadn't...

 

She was warmer now, wrapped in it, held by it. Molly tiredly rested her head against the heat source, shaking and shivering so hard that she thought her bones would crack from it. Her eyes were clearing, and she could see who and what was holding her now. Black curls and pale skin..."Pr'fssor Holmes?" she croaked, her voice hoarse and weak.

 

"Yes, Molly, I've got you," he replied, holding her closer. "John's on his way. We'll take care of you, I promise."

 

She snuggled into him, not caring any more. He was here, he was warm, he was _safe_. "Saved me...you saved me," she murmured.

 

"Yes, I suppose I did," he replied, brushing damp hair from her forehead as it started to freeze and rubbing her torso to restore warmth to her body.

 

She took a deep breath and began to cough again, the cold air like a knife blade in her throat and lungs. She clutched him like he was her lifeline, fingers wound tight into the fabric of his shirt. The man didn't move from where he was kneeling on the ground, wondering what was taking John so long. "You're going to be just fine," he said, looking her up and down. He knew it wasn't completely safe to move her, but he _needed_ that other opinion.

 

When she had caught her breath, Molly used her grip on his shirt to pull him to her, her cold lips meeting his warm ones. She felt blood rush to her face, painful in its warmth as it travelled to the surface of her skin. And then she recalled something from one of their first meetings. His name...his _first_ name. So she could do this properly. She broke the kiss, not daring to look him in the eyes. "Thank you...Sherlock..." she murmured.

 

He was completely speechless...his first kiss...frigid and intense and... _ohbloodyhell with the Headmaster's daughter_. He prayed thanks to a God he didn't even believe in for the cover of night as he was sure he was blushing when he heard John's footsteps approach. "And what sort of a time do you call this?"

 

"Got here...quick as I could," John panted. "Damn my legs!"

 

Sherlock stood slowly, feeling Molly's grip (he was thinking of her in terms of first names now) tighten on his shirt. "She needs warmth. I fear hypothermia may set in if we are not swift."

 

John let out a breath. "The quickest way to warm her up is one that I would not suggest...especially out here," he said, rubbing his temples and pacing, trying to figure out what to do in what little time they had before Molly's flesh began to freeze and die.

 

"Can we get her inside? Tea? Warm blankets? Something, _anything_ , John. I will not be responsible for the death of one of my students-"

 

"We need to get her inside and out of these clothes _now_ ; they're nearly frozen solid," John said, switching into full doctor mode. He hadn't been an army doctor for nothing. "I know you have a spare set or two of dry things with you. I'll come with you, need you to bring her to the nurse's office, then you go get those clothes. Come on, Sherlock, we need to _move_. If she's out here for any longer, her lungs could become compromised," he snapped.

 

Startled out of his panic, Sherlock followed his friend as quickly as possible, hissing and shivering himself as they reentered the warmth of the school. John brought them to the infirmary as quickly as he could, thanking God that he was dating Mary and that she had given him her spare key to the nurse's office so he could close up that night. He nearly broke the glass on the door in his haste to get it open. He cleared off a cot so Sherlock could set Molly down on it and he cursed. "I need to go find blankets...and I'm sorry to ask this of you, but I need you to strip her to her skin," he said. "As soon as I get them, we'll swap and you can go get those dry clothes."

 

"I-you-John, that is an extraordinarily _bad_ idea-"

 

"If we don't, she could _die_."

 

This was so incredibly not good. "Fine," he snarled through chattering teeth as he tore off his gloves and gently peeled his coat away from her and started to strip her as gingerly and carefully as possible, extremely aware that she was ever so slightly conscious. John raced off to find the blankets, stashed in some forgotten back closet in the infirmary.

 

Molly's eyes were fluttering as she slowly felt her skin bared to now much warmer air, the cold and wet garments slowly falling away, goose bumps rising like welts on her now slightly blue skin. Sherlock approached the task as he would a text he was studying: just look at the big picture first before focusing on the details. It helped, especially when he had to remove her bra and knickers. He did his best not to look, placing his coat back over her and taking off the garments without looking, trying to afford them both a sense of dignity. Molly, barely aware, felt the lightest brush of his fingertips against her skin and giggled. "Tickles," she slurred, the cold numbing her brain and her tongue. John came running back in, his arms full of blankets. He wrapped Molly in them and nodded at Sherlock. "Go get those clothes now," he ordered, voice stern, kicking aside the heap of river-water soaked garments that now littered the ground.

 

Sherlock bolted from the room, tearing back to his office for his spare set of clothes (purple shirt, dark trousers, thick socks) before returning to the infirmary. John was on his mobile when Sherlock came tearing back in with the clothes. He mouthed "Lestrade...ambulance on the way. Get those clothes on her!" before turning his attention back to the conversation, trying to calm the frantic father on the other end of the line.

 

Inwardly groaning, Sherlock pulled the trousers onto her legs, his hands staying carefully at her hips before buttoning and zipping them; they were frightfully big on her. The English professor gently sat the girl up in order to get the shirt onto her pale, trembling frame, doing the buttons up as fast as he could before encasing her feet in the warm socks.

 

There was that warmth again; Molly wrapped her arms around it, her shivering abating slightly as she rested her head on the soft yet solid mass. Sherlock had difficulty moving when she held onto him and, making a decision he was sure to regret, swept her into his arms and then sat on the cot, cradling her and wrapping her in a blanket. Moving like every limb had a lead weight attached, she moved one half-frozen hand upward, finding something soft and springy that she curled around her fingers, the repetitive motion of moving her hand through it almost sending her to sleep, even as she fought to stay awake. That warmth was all around her now, and she relaxed into it.

 

She was playing with his hair. The simplicity of it brought everything from the semester crashing down over his head, everything starting in that ill fated class where he'd been so stupid and blind and in denial of everything, the jealousy that had sprung up the class after, bringing her up every time there was a reading just to see her perform...He glanced up, John's back still to him as he tried to talk Lestrade down from his freak out.

 

Half-conscious, she smiled, her numbed brain dredging up pleasant memories of some bygone time and place. She buried her head into the warmth, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh. She was vaguely aware of a familiar scent, one that, were she more aware, would have made her heart race and her face flush crimson. But for now, she was ignorant of anything around her but the vague hum of a voice in the background and the feeling of someone holding her tightly.

 

"John? _John_?!" Sherlock hissed, trying to get his friend's attention. His brain was working faster than it ought, pulling pieces together, deducing what he'd been blind to all along. "Oh, love is blind," he thought bitterly as his heart nearly stopped in his chest. Love? Then...the _willow tree_...

 

John could hear Sherlock trying to get his attention but Lestrade was almost having a heart-attack and he was doing his best to reassure him that yes, Molly was safe, yes, she was all right, yes, an ambulance was its way to take her to the hospital.

 

Sherlock couldn't take much more of this; she was too close, everything was swirling around him, Hamlet holding his Ophelia even though she was alive...just barely. Molly was starting to fall asleep now, even though she didn't want to. Her brow furrowed slightly and she turned her head, her lips resting against that same warm, soft-ish something as she tried to keep awake.

 

"John, you need to come here _now_. I think she's falling asleep."

 

John hastily ended his call and crossed the short distance to where Sherlock had the girl cradled in his lap. "Molly, I need you to stay awake," he said, his bedside manner gentle but firm.

 

"But m' tired," she said hoarsely, her throat beginning to hurt more.

 

"Molly, you need to stay awake. I know you're tired, but it is imperative you do so. Can you tell us anything of what happened?"

 

Her dazed brain hissed a warning. _Lie. Can't tell the truth to them_... _shhhhhhhh_. "Went for a walk...tripped and fell, got caught underwater, couldn't pull free," she managed.

 

The professor's pale fingers traced the marks on her neck. "It appears to me you've been attacked."

 

She shivered at the touch of his fingers on the skin of her throat. "No...fell in," she repeated stolidly.

 

"John, she's going into shock. Where in blazes is that ambulance?!"

 

The doctor scowled out the window only to have his face visibly relaxe as he heard the wail of sirens and saw the flash of lights. "There. I'll go get them and flag them down," he said, and he was out the door again.

 

Sherlock nodded, watching his friend go before turning his attention back to the girl in his arms. "Hold on just a little bit longer, Molly. The doctors are going to bring you back to health; you'll be fine."

 

"'kay...will do it...for you..." she says, trying _so_ hard to stay awake, wanting nothing more than to slip under the velvet-dark waves of sleep and blissful unconsciousness. But she'd stay awake, because he asked her to.

 

"You're one of my brightest students...and, if you can keep this secret because I'm not saying it again, you are the reason I come to class every day. I know you'll participate, have the answers, go above and beyond what I expect from the students."

 

If she were more herself, she would be a stammering, fumbling, crimson wreck. But in her half-present daze, she merely smiles, soft and somehow blinding at the same time. "My lord, you are too keen," she murmured, barely audible. (1)

 

A faint smile played on his lips. "Forty thousand brothers could not with all their quantity of love make up my sum," he whispered. "Stay awake, Molly, they're coming." (2)

 

She managed to actually open her eyes all the way as the quote filtered through to her brain. A little more awake now, possibly from the jolt of raw disbelief and mental shock. "...truly?" she asked, hardly daring to believe it. But before she could get an answer, there was the pounding of feet down the hallway, John and the paramedics and her father burst in, and everything was a rush of noise and movement.

 

Sherlock braced himself for the Headmaster's wrath, but Lestrade was so glad to see Molly was alive that he thanked Sherlock and went so far as to hug him, John snickering behind his back. The professor's brain was still reeling from his epiphany as the paramedics took the shivering girl from his arms, coaxing her to let go of his shirt. When Lestrade saw how she was dressed, Sherlock cut him off. "I keep a spare set of clothes in my office, and she was soaked to the skin. We had to dress her in something dry to keep her from getting any worse."

 

Lestrade merely nodded. Right now, he didn't _care_ that his daughter was wearing her professor's oversized clothes, he was just glad that she was safe and _alive_. "I can't...I can't thank you enough. If you hadn't been here," he says, and he his voice choked as he thought about what _could_ have happened to his little girl.

 

"I know. The thought crossed my mind as well. I was simply relieved to see she was breathing, and John's medical knowledge came in very handy. He also deserves your thanks."

 

Lestrade went and hugged John as well. He knew it was unprofessional but at that moment, he wasn't Headmaster Gregory Lestrade; he was a father out of his mind with worry and now relief. "Thank you, John," he said, "for everything."

 

The science professor flushed a deep crimson and shot Sherlock a look before returning the embrace. "You're-ah-you're welcome...Greg."

 

One of the paramedics came over and tapped Greg on the shoulder, telling him that they were taking Molly to the hospital if he wanted to ride along with them. He nodded and was out the door, leaving Sherlock and John with another word of thanks as he followed the EMT's and the stretcher. There was a long pause. "She was lying about falling in, wasn't she," John said.

 

"You saw the marks on her neck. What do you think, John? Those looked to me like bruises caused by fingers. Someone held her under, tried to murder her." Sherlock's fists were clenched, his brow furrowed with anger.

 

John set his mouth into a grim line. "Why won't she tell us, then?"

 

"Probably afraid of retribution. Whoever decided to do it left once she lost consciousness and will, I'm sure, not be please to discover she is alive."

 

The blonde man nodded, watching Sherlock carefully. He had never seen him this agitated before, and it made him wonder. The English professor glanced at his friend. "I'm fine John. I'm simply concerned for the wellbeing of one of my top students."

 

John merely raised an eyebrow and said nothing. This, he thought, was a little more than concern over a top student. It was like Sherlock was still figuring something out, piecing it together in his head. He knew that look well enough, having seen it every day for he didn't know how many years. Sherlock kept shaking his head, resisting the urge to drop into his mind palace. Molly needed him. John needed him. With a huge effort he took a deep breath and came back to himself, vowing to think it over later and not even daring to touch his thoughts about how he might...how he did feel about her.

 

John sighed. "Let's clean up here. And then Lord knows I could use a stiff drink. You look like you could have one yourself," he said, eyeing the taller man as he went to retrieve the blankets and the heap of freezing, sodden clothing that was in a crumpled pile on the floor near the cot.

 

"If you insist, John," the taller man replied, helping him gather the blankets into one pile and her clothes into another, extracting his own coat from the pile of wet things.

 

John threw the blankets into the washing machine that was in a utility closet at the end of the infirmary and looked at Molly's clothes. He made a wry, somewhat sheepish face. "I have no idea what to do with these..." he said, looking at the shirt and the slacks, the bra and panties hidden away in the folds of the clothing.

 

"Neither do I...if she wants to keep them, then they should be washed..." he was holding the bundle away from his body, touching as little of it as he could

 

He snickered as he saw Sherlock holding the bundle of clothing as if it were something dead. Then he revised that; Sherlock was comfortable around dead things. Like he was holding a small child. He recalled once how a toddler (mutual friend's niece) had attached herself to the tall man's leg, eyes shining. That was one time that he had seen Sherlock look utterly lost and panicky; he did not do well with children.

 

"John? A little help here. My fingers are beginning to lose feeling."

 

"Oh! Right, sorry," he said, quickly taking the freezing clothes and dumping them into the washing machine as well before adding the washing powder and turning it on. "Nothing for it but to lock up, then," John said, taking one last glance around the infirmary to see if there was anything out of place before they left.

 

Sherlock cast his eyes over the room, spotting something on the floor by the cot. Curious, he picked it up, recognizing it as a ring that Molly always wore. John saw what Sherlock had picked up. "Should hold on to that for her," he said, indicating to the ring that the English professor was holding. "Give it back when she's up and about again. Well, that's it...c'mon, let's go get that drink."

 

One last glance at the room and Sherlock followed John, pocketing the ring, secretly glad to have a small token, a reminder of the girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)- Act III, Scene ii: Play within a Play
> 
> (2)- Act V, Scene i: Ophelia's funeral


	20. Family, Lies...and Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the hospital...

Molly slowly woke up, her limbs pricking pins and needles. She was in the hospital, not quite remembering _why_...and then everything came slamming back to her. _The note, meeting Jim by the river...him holding her under by her throat. Being saved by..._

 

"Oh my _God_..." she gasped, her face going a brilliant shade of red. Professor Holmes. She went redder and sank further under her blankets. She had _kissed_ him. Oh _no_. He probably thought she was flighty and stupid now, that she was just another hormone-addled sheep...but she could half-remember quotes from _Hamlet_ and being wrapped in a warm coat and held. Her eyes went wide as she recalled just _what_ he had said, her heart revving up to a near hum in her chest.

 

She clutched at the edge of her blankets, and then she noticed it. Her ring, the gold ring with the tiny star sapphire that she always wore was gone, the lighter skin where it always sat on her right hand starkly obvious. She felt an acute pang of loss; it had been her mother's, one that she had been planning to give her when she was sixteen but inherited after the crash, passed down by her grandmother, and her great-grandmother. She swallowed hard. It was the last thing she had of her parents, and while she was glad to be alive, she was upset that she had lost it.

 

Molly leaned back against the pillows and sighed, closing her eyes to rest them, but her brain insisted on keeping her awake with another thought, one that made her body tense and tight and her stomach sick with fear. Jim. What was she going to do about Jim? He must have thought she was dead, and she clearly was not...so what was her next course of action? What would _his_ next decision be when he found out that she was still alive? She fought down a bubble of panic that welled in her chest, breathing deeply. _Cross that bridge when we come to it_ , she thought.

 

oOoOo

 

Lestrade came in as soon as the nurses told him she was awake. He took her hand gently in his. "Oh, my baby girl, I'm so glad you're safe-"

 

"Daddy," she said, sudden hot tears pricking her eyes. She held out open arms, wordlessly asking for a hug, for reassurance, like she had so often right after the accident.

 

Scooting her over, he gently sat on the edge of her bed and held her close, clutching her to his chest and stroking her hair. "Shhhh, I've got you love. You're safe now..."

 

Molly had to take deep breaths to keep from sobbing, inhaling the warm, familiar scent of her guardian's aftershave, suddenly feeling like such a child again. When she was able to get a hold of herself, she pulled back. "Sorry for making you worry," she said softly, apologizing as a force of habit.

 

"What were you doing out there? It was late at night, were you meeting someone?" He glanced at her neck. "And those bruises make it look like you've been attacked. Do you remember anything?"

 

"I was taking a walk to clear my head, and I slipped and fell in. Something caught my coat, and I couldn't come up for air, must have gotten my scarf caught too," she said, the lie easily coming back to her. That was, at least, one thing that she remembered from those fogged recollections of the school infirmary.

 

"But they look like _fingers_ Molly-"

 

"I _fell_ , Daddy," she reiterates. She couldn't tell him, couldn't tell _anyone_. Not like they'd believe her anyway. King Jim having it in for her? Tried to drown her in the river? Bollocks, she's just after attention. _Whore_. _Slut_. _Cry wolf'_.

 

"Shhhhhh, okay, if that's what you say, then I'll believe you, baby girl," Greg murmured, stroking her hair and holding her to him again, reassuring himself of her warmth and heartbeat. "We owe Professor Holmes a debt of gratitude. If he'd been even a minute later..."

 

She swallowed hard. "Yeah," she murmured softly, glad that he was holding her face to his chest and that he couldn't see her blush.

 

"He and Doctor Watson should be recognized for services to the school or something-"

 

She felt a flash of panic. "Could...could we do that privately? I don't want to make a fuss," she asked. The last thing she wanted was more attention, to let Jim know, to be in the spotlight. Greg felt her stiffen in his arms and was about to ask what was wrong when someone cleared his throat. Greg turned and saw both John and Sherlock standing there

 

Molly's eyes went wide. There he was, standing in the doorway, _looking_ at her. The room felt suddenly three sizes smaller. "Sorry, we can come back later..." John said, shuffling awkwardly.

 

"No, no, come in. I wanted to thank you both again for what you did to save my daughter today. I owe you both," Lestrade said, standing slowly and letting go of Molly. She shrank down under her blankets again as her father rose to go thank the doctor and the lit professor once again. She looked everywhere but at Prof. H-... _Sherlock_. He had saved her life... so why couldn't she use his name. She had when she -ohGod- _kissed_ him...

 

"It's nothing, Greg, really. We would have done the same for anyone," John said, looking slightly embarrassed to be receiving such effluent amounts of praise from the usually professional headmaster. Lestrade shook both their hands and clapped them on the back before pulling John aside and into the hall, asking question after question about her condition and what had happened, leaving Sherlock alone with Molly

 

She fidgeted. Her father had taken Doctor Watson out to the hallway, and that left her alone in the room with _him_. She took a breath. "Ah...th-thank you, again...for...for saving me. And for everything else," she said quietly.

 

Sherlock shifted his weight, unable to look away, taking in every detail he could. He took a few steps forward until his feet carried him to the chair by her bed, his hand fishing in his pocket, "I-I believe this is yours."

 

Her eyes went wide and she gasped when she saw what he held. Her mother's ring. "You found it!" she says, unnecessarily. "Thank you, thank you so much! I...this is the only thing left..." she said, pausing when she reached for it, not wanting to seem grabby or too enthusiastic or...she didn't even know any more, her brain and her heart were so tangled that it would take what felt like years to unravel them.

 

Not sure what he was thinking or why he did it (a first for him), Sherlock slipped the ring onto the appropriate finger, the tan line as clear as a metaphor to him. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart raced as he slid the ring gently on to her finger. As soon as it was in place, she didn't know why, but she caught his hand and held it, marveling at how large and strong it was compared to hers. His long, pale fingers seemed just perfect for playing the piano and she traced the lines of his palm absently, almost as if she were in a trance. He froze, ears straining for any hint of warning that her father and John were returning. "Molly-"

 

She stopped and dropped his hand as if it were made of hot lead. "I'msosorry," she said, the words coming out in a rush, her face burning all the way to the roots of her hair.

 

"I-it's just...what if your father saw? He'd flay me alive, your savior or not. I nearly lost my job because of class earlier this semester...all over you." He spoke quickly and softly, marveling at the color in her cheeks.

 

She felt a wave of guilt wash over her. Molly bit her lip and swallowed hard. Then she stopped to consider what he had said. He hadn't reprimanded her, he hadn't said that it was inappropriate. The line from Hamlet that he had quoted at her earlier suddenly came back to her and she looked up at him, her eyes wide and questioning. "So you _weren't_ lying...?" she said softly, knowing that he would know exactly what she was talking about.

 

He took a very long moment before answering. "I do not think so, no."

 

She allowed a small smile to come to her lips. "Good. I...I don't think I could take being lied to anymore," she said. She listened to hear if her father and Doctor Watson were returning and, satisfied that they weren't, took his hand in hers again.

 

"Who lied to you, Molly? Did the person who lied give you those marks?" Sherlock felt his cheeks flush slightly as she held his hand.

 

She went as pale as the sheets she was under. "I told you I fell in. My scarf must have gotten caught and caused the marks" she said softly.

 

"And I'm telling you that I don't believe it for a second. You know I notice things, and I know you said you are tired of lies. Then why bother lying to me?" he asked quietly, looking over the skin of her hand; she was almost as pale as he was.

 

She let out a shuddering breath. "You can't tell anyone. Not my father, not Doctor Watson, not _anyone_ ," she said fiercely. She didn't know what would happen to her if he knew she talked. Or if she'd live to see the next semester. Jim thought she was dead but didn't finish the job, so what was to stop him from trying harder to make her fate more permanent the next time they crossed paths?

 

"Whoever it is clearly has you terrified and is very dangerous...and I'm concluding that he doesn't know you are alive, yes?"

 

She nodded, remembering how Jim had hissed in her ear and looked positively gleeful as he held her under the water, the thin layer of ice on top distorting his face into something hellish.

 

Sherlock glanced over his shoulder and, satisfied that no one was coming, leaned in to give her a very, _very_ quick, gentle kiss before releasing her hand and sitting back in the chair, regarding her over his fingers. "He has clearly read Hamlet," the man mused, "as he tried to drown you by a willow tree, so it may be safe to assume he's taken my class...that narrows it down considerably."

 

Her eyes went wide at the kiss, the feeling of his lips against hers startling, however brief the contact. He knew the basics now; it was nearly scary to watch his mind work, sorting through every piece of information in nanoseconds.

 

"Might have a grudge, a bone to pick-you're dating Moriarty right now, and Moran kissed you in class the other day..." Sherlock's eyes went wide as the final pieces fell into place. "Molly you have to-"

 

She was just about to ask what she had to do when John and her father walked in and she started. John was looking a little tired, and her father was looking slightly frustrated. Clearly, his questioning hadn't gone as well as he had wanted. Sherlock sat up a little straighter, reading the desperation in her face to keep her secret while knowing that telling the truth was the honorable thing to do. "I found her ring," he said instead, "she dropped it in the infirmary."

 

Molly almost let out a sigh of relief. He had kept her secret. Greg blinked. "Another thing to thank you for...it's the only thing she has left of her parents," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with exhaustion; it had been a long, _long_ day.

 

"Well, I must be off. Miss Hooper, glad to see you are much better. Lestrade, keep us informed, will you? Come along, John." With that, Sherlock swept from the room.

 

She watched him go with John following close behind, her heart in her throat, before she turned to her father, twisting the ring around her finger nervously.

 

Lestrade resumed his seat by  her side. "Promise me you won't go outside after dark again."

 

She sighed. "Daddy..."

 

"I don't know how else to protect you. I nearly lost you tonight."

 

She swallowed hard, feeling horrible. "I'll try not to. But Daddy, what if I want to go out with friends? I'm don't want to say 'oh, I need to be back by sundown.' I'll stay away from rivers in the winter," she bargained.

 

He nearly argued but the look on her face advised against that. "All right. Stay away from the river, then. Do you need me to give you a note for your assignments due the next few days?"

 

She shook her head. "One night's stay in the hospital shouldn't affect my schoolwork," she said. She didn't want a note excusing her, using his power as headmaster. She would recover under her own power and turn everything in on time, even if she had to work extra hours on it.

 

"Do you want me to stay?"

 

She smiled. "No...you look so tired. You should go home and get some sleep. You work too hard."

 

"If you're sure," he murmured, standing and kissing her head. "Make sure you get some rest. I'll be back in the morning. I love you, sweetie.

 

"I love you too, Daddy," Molly said as she watched him leave. She sank back into the pillows, and let her own exhaustion carry her off.


	21. The Failed Attempt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She's still alive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! I meant to get this up yesterday, and the house turned into a three-ring circus. I /am/ hoping to finish up the last 2 chapters and have them up within the next 48 hours if not sooner. Stay tuned!

Jim had never been so pleased with himself. Seb had shagged him senseless when he'd returned to their room and told him that the boy no longer had to share, but the next morning over breakfast, all anyone could talk about was the ambulance that had arrived the night before along with the headmaster. "Sebby, do be a dear and find out what all the fuss is about."

 

Seb nodded and listened in to the conversations that students were having when he got up to throw out his things, only catching snippets.

 

"Headmaster's daughter-"

 

"-fell in-"

 

"-nearly drowned!-"

 

"By the old willow? Drowned? Just like Ophelia! Brrr-"

 

"Wonder if she did it to get attention, the slut-"

 

"She's coming back today-"

 

He went pale. Oh _fuck_. Jim was not going to be happy. Not at all. He made his way back to the table and sat, brooding and silent.

 

"Well? I assume you heard all the _juicy_ details-"

 

The blonde nodded and took a breath before breaking the news. "She's still alive."

 

Jim cocked his head as if he'd misheard when all the color suddenly drained from his face. "I hope you know exactly what you're talking about, Sebastian Moran because I will not take it well if I discover you're lying."

 

"It's what I heard, don't shoot the messenger."

 

"Then it would seem there is still much to learn about death and destruction, my loyal Tiger. If the rumors are true, then she has still defied me and has to either come back or die."

 

Seb swallowed hard and debated about not bequeathing Jim with the next piece of information that he had heard, but he knew that the boy would know if he omitted anything; he'd never seen his lover like this before, and it both aroused and frightened him. "Heard it said that she's coming back today."

 

"Our room is the perfect vantage point to see the front entrance. We'll watch and see. She'll wish she'd never survived when I'm through with her," he growled, crushing his empty plastic cup. Seb nodded and wondered just what his lover had in store for the unfortunate Molly Hooper.

 

"Come, Seb. Let's start our stakeout. Oh, and grab some more of the least disgusting grub this place has to offer. You need to do the shopping tomorrow."

 

He nodded and grabbed an apple or three from the fruit bowl that sat near the entrance as he followed Jim out, going back to their room. He had no idea what was going to happen, and he started grinning. It was sure to be horrifyingly bloody from what Jim had promised earlier.

 

The younger boy pulled up the blinds and dragged out Seb's storage containers from under his bed and stacked them, piling blankets and pillows on them and creating a nice little nest. He clambered up and made himself comfortable, realizing he was about at Seb's eye level when sitting up. He gave his lover a look, smirking and raising a single eyebrow as he glanced out the window: no traffic yet. Seb joined Jim by the window, watching the entryway with a rapt expression. They waited for nearly an hour; he was about to scream in boredom when he caught the flash of movement. He focused on the figure: long brown hair, not pulled back, though, flowing over her shoulders. He recognized the brisk walk. Seb tapped Jim on the shoulder to get his attention. "Jim...Jim! It's her."

 

The smaller boy sighed. "Oh Kitten, you really shouldn't have. Now I _do_ have to take care of you." He looked back at Sebastian. "Well, it shall be glorious, Sebby, perhaps our finest hour here. But first," he tilted his head sideways," I wanted a kiss earlier and you ignored me," he pouted.

 

Seb smirked and leaned over to kiss him, hard and fast, enjoying how Jim was at eye-level with him now. Purring with pleasure, Jim threaded his fingers in the blonde curls and relishing Seb's moan when he tugged. Seb moaned as Jim's fingers wound through his hair and he tugged gently, opening his mouth to allow Jim's questing tongue access.

 

It was easy and pleasant and so god damned hot. Jim had the fleeting thought that he wondered if he could come just from kissing Sebby; it wasn't something he'd ever tried, he mused as his tongue endeavored to taste every centimeter of the boy's mouth. Seb wound his own fingers through Jim's fine, dark hair as his lover's tongue made a thorough exploration of his mouth. when their tongues met, it was like a firework going off in his chest.

 

Jim pulled away for a moment, eyes darkening with bloodlust and lust for the boy in front of him. "Challenge for you, Tiger."

 

"Oh?" he asked, shivering as he caught the look in Jim's eyes. _God_ but it turned him on.

 

"I would bet you...a week of picking who tops who that you can't make me come in my pants from just kissing me," the boy said softly

 

Seb's eyebrows went up. "Challenge accepted," he said and dove in, his lips crashing on to Jim's with a fierce desperation and need, tongue lapping at his soft palate and twining with Jim's as he held him still.

 

Jim groaned and whimpered, tightening his grip in Seb's hair as he feels his trousers tighten, his lover's tongue teasing and flicking at the most sensitive areas of his mouth and making him squirm in his grip. Seb changed the pressure from hard and wanting to soft and almost unbearably sweet, nearly chaste in its affection, although there was enough of an underlying current of sheer _need_ to keep it hot.

 

Jim rubbed his legs together, trying to get some friction as Seb ramped up the heat with teasing him. "Seebbbbyyyy," he whined

 

"You said just kissing," he murmured into Jim's mouth, nibbling gently at his lower lip before placing a hard, sharp bite.

 

"Ah!" he gasped, tasting blood and trying to press closer the larger boy. He could feel his length beginning to ache, wondering how it was that he'd let himself become such a slave to his body. Seb _growled_ , lapping up the blood from where he had broken the thin skin of Jim's mouth with gentle strokes of his tongue before kissing him again, harder this time. Jim knew he had every single ounce of control in the situation, and he liked it that way. Sighing and moaning just enough to keep Sebby interested, he could feel his mind starting to wander and plot. His lover was a ruddy brilliant kisser, but he needed a bit more...stimulation, he decided.

 

Seb could tell that Jim's attention was beginning to waver, so he pulled sharply on his hair and snaked one hand down between them to rest on his lover's thigh, barely resting against Jim's straining arousal. Jim twitched, his legs shifting and scalp beginning to ache, but it was the pain that brought him fully back and aware, and oh god Seb was sucking on his tongue. That was new. Seb purred, feeling his lover twitch and squirm under his ministrations. He felt rather pleased with himself.

 

"Needmore," the boy mumbled as best he could with his tongue captive, trying to take back over. He remembered how hot it was when Seb had taken control their very first time and set about trying to provoke such a reaction. The older boy chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest as he deftly unbuttoned and unzipped Jim's trousers and snaked his hand inside, grasping his lover's throbbing length.

 

That was it. More stimulation, and the mental visual of Seb stroking him was enough to push Jim to the brink, gleeful that he'd won, and right as he felt Jim starting to twitch, Sebastian stopped, smirking. He knew that the boy was already gloating and decided to make him remember that he wasn't going to give up so easily. The pale boy growled low in his throat, bucking up against Seb's hand.

 

"Oh no...you _did_ say just kissing, _Boss_ ," Seb drawled, removing his hand entirely.

 

"And you broke first," Jim hissed back, eyes glinting. Oh, he loved their little games, and by the look of Seb's trousers, the other boy did as well.

 

Seb snarled. "Fine," he hissed, before smirking wickedly and taking Jim's length in hand again and setting a rough, fast rhythm.

 

"Y-yes-ohgod-Sebby-Tiger-lo-" Jim stopped himself from the last one, eyes flying open as the boy brought him right up to the edge. He'd been about to say... _love_. His love.

 

Seb's movements stuttered. Had Jim just been about to say...? No, don't be stupid... no way he felt that way about him. He swallowed hard before staring into Jim's eyes and starting his smooth, fast pace again, adding firm squeezes this time.

 

"Fucking kiss me already, you great big-" Jim never finished his insult as Seb's mouth closed over his and drew the breath from his lungs and the scream from his lips as he came.

 

Seb stopped the insult with a kiss as Jim came hard, taking the scream and the breath right out of him, feeling his own manhood twitch unbearably inside the confines of his jeans, rocking his hips a little to get some friction against it. Jim dropped his hand to Seb's bulge and palmed it, rubbing and squeezing but not slipping his hand inside to touch it. The friction alone should be more than enough.

 

Seb keened and whined as he came, Jim's touch through his jeans enough to send him over the edge. He bucked his hips up hard into his lover's hand, panting as they both came down from their orgasmic high.

 

The smaller boy's head came to a rest on Seb's shoulder. "I won..." he panted.

 

Seb sighed. "You always do," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Jim's scalp.

 

"And don't you forget it. Now, help me down Sebby. I think I know just how to scare the little Kitten, get her running before I swoop in for the kill."

 

Seb smirked and helped Jim down. "And what are you planning, oh great mastermind?"

 

"Little warnings here and there, but first I'm going to find out how she survived. Then I'm going to destroy everything she holds dear. Know thine enemy, Sebby. And I do. And the very last thing she'd ever expect after everything is affection. It's all about unnerving her to the point of breaking."

 

Seb raised an eyebrow. "So...kill her with kindness..."

 

"In a way. Just throw her off guard so she isn't expecting it because I can guarantee she is, especially since the little cunt knows that I tried to kill her and that you were probably privy to that. Which you were," Jim replied, cleaning himself up and dressing in unusual jeans and a jumper.

 

Seb watched as Jim changed into..."Casual Friday on a Tuesday?"

 

Jim rolled his eyes. "Please, Sebby. Putting on a little show...besides, you can't resist my arse in these."

 

He grinned. "Fuck no. Just want to _bite_ it," he said, baring his teeth and chuckling.

 

"Might have to try that the next time you manage to top me."

 

"Of course. Now...we have some quarry to track, I do believe," Seb said, shucking his soiled trousers off and getting into clean ones after tidying himself up.

 

"Once more into the breach dear Tiger. Once more."

 

"Or else close up the walls with our English dead," Seb said, finishing the quote with a feral smile. (1)

 

"Well now...I didn't know you knew Henry the Fifth."

 

"Just full of surprises, me."

 

"And here I thought you were a dumb animal. Hmmm, he learns to speak," Jim teased

 

"Woof," Seb said, sarcastically. "Now let's go."

 

"Lead on, I will follow."

 

Seb swept out the door, with Jim following behind.

 


	22. Confessions and Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark secrets about Seb's past come to light, and Jim begins his plan to take down Molly Hooper.

Seb rolled his eyes. "I realize you wanted me to get snacks, and we have them now..." he said, holding up the bag of Chinese takeaway. "But please explain to me _why_ we are looking at fucking _flowers_? Just because we're fucking doesn't mean we have to have... _floral arrangements_ ," he said, wrinkling his nose with disgust.

 

 Jim ignored him, picking through the bouquets before selecting one: plenty of roses and violets. "Just have to grab some herbs and we can go back. Really, Tiger, you _are_ dense, aren't you?"

 

Seb blinked and growled at the insult. "Fuck you," he said sullenly, glaring at the closest cheerily-wrapped bouquet.

 

"I might let you," Jim replied absently, finding the correct fresh herb for his plan. "Okay. All ready now."

 

"Good. Flower shops make my skin itch," he complained as he followed Jim to the register where the bouquet and herbs were paid for.

 

"Awwwww, is the poor Tiger allergic?"

 

"No, I just _hate_ them."

 

"Why?"

 

Seb went uncharacteristically quiet. "Don't want to talk about it," he said tersely.

 

Collecting his purchase, Jim strode from the shop before rounding on Seb. "Touchy subject, is it?" he smirked.

 

"So what if it is? I said I _don't_ want to talk about it," he said, eyes defiant.

 

Not wanting to drop anything, Jim uncharacteristically let it go on the cab ride back, remaining very quiet. Seb was on edge the entire ride back to campus, the usually talkative Jim being silent. That meant he was plotting something. As usual.

 

They made it back to their room, Jim setting down the flowers and herb on his desk before snatching the takeaway and diving under his bed with it

 

Seb paused. "The fuck are you doing?" he asked, peering under the bed.

 

"Eating all our food by myself."

 

He glared. "Fuck that shit! _I_ paid for it! And I'm hungry! Give me my dumplings, you twat!"

 

"They're really quite yummy, Sebby. Shame you can't have any," Jim said, opening the bag. "Mmmmmm, I might actually eat today, it smells so much better than the shite from the cafeteria."

 

Seb growled and lay on the floor, reaching under the bed to try and wrest his portion of the food away from his infuriating lover and roommate. Jim slapped the back of his hand with a set of chopsticks while scooting further back into the corner. "Back Tiger! No food unless you do a trick."

 

"I'll let you live. How's that for a trick?" he hissed.

 

"I wanna know why you don't like flowers."

 

Seb blanched. "Why?"

 

"Because I'm curious and you're hungry and this is way more fun than-"

 

"My mum."

 

Jim stopped, putting the bag behind him and scooting out from under the bed just enough to get a peek at Seb's face. "Well, no, I dearly hope not more fun than you mum. Where did you get that idea? You aren't a pervert are you?"

 

Seb snarled, actual rage and hurt spreading across his features. " _Fuck off_ ," he hissed.

 

Jim rolled onto his back, stretching out like a cat or a puppy. "Mummy's boy."

 

Seb reached out and struck Jim, hitting him hard in the gut. "Don't. Talk. About. My. Mum." he said, his voice tight and carefully controlled.

 

The boy rolled back under the bed, clutching his stomach before launching himself out at his lover, tackling him and getting a hold of his neck with his hands. "I'll do to you what I did to Hooper, Moran."

 

"'Cept I can actually fight _back_ ," he wheezed, getting his feet under Jim and pushing him off with his legs.

 

Jim went flying, hitting the bed frame and crumpling to the floor.

 

Seb went pale. He never meant to actually hurt Jim. " _Shit_." he hissed, going swiftly over to him and picking him up, cradling him in his arms and lap.

 

Two punches: one to the plexus and another to the boy's chin. "Don't...you fucking...do that...again," Jim wheezed, his back extremely sore. He figured he'd have a nice bruise there in a few hours.

 

The blonde's breath escaped him, and then his head snapped back from the blow to his jaw. "Understood," he said hoarsely, trying to force air back into his lungs. He was still holding Jim, and there was a long, long silence.

 

"My mum was a florist. Before she was...before she died. That's why I don't like flowers."

 

The pale boy tilted his head, looking up at Seb's chin and neck. His roommate wasn't looking at him. Seb swallowed hard, lost in a usually buried-deep memory. "Peonies were her favorite," he said, his voice far away, his gaze directed to the cold gray winter sky.

 

"Healing," Jim muttered, fingers tracing abstract patterns on the back of one of his lover's hands.

 

He snapped back to himself as he felt Jim's fingers on his skin. "Not really," he said softly, his eyes growing dark and hard and vicious, full of anger and hate. "Festering, more like."

 

No, I meant peonies stand for healing. Do try and keep up-"

 

Seb curled his lip in a quick flash of anger, but he was now too worn out from their little spat and his trip to things better left buried in his mind to fight back. "I did your _trick_. May I eat now?" he asked softly, voice full of some unnamable emotion.

 

"Nope. You barely answered my question. I'm curious now."

 

"About what?" he said, his words clipped.

 

"Your mum. Why it's such a touchy subject. If she had just died, you would have grieved and moved on but you didn't. You still miss her and it still clearly causes you extreme pain to the point of nearly breaking me in half. Bit defensive before, especially when I called you a Mummy's-"

 

Seb shut Jim up with a glare. "What. did I. Say?" he said softly, voice deadly serious.

 

Jim scrunched up his nose. "You're avooooiiiding me, Sebby lo-darling." Fuck, that was twice now. He really did need to watch his mouth

 

The blonde boy cocked his head to one side. There it was again, that half-said word that he thought he dreamed he was hearing. He sighed, too tired now to deal with Jim's little mind-game shit. "My dad killed her," he said shortly.

 

"Oh." Simple, effective, almost poetic. "You got revenge."

 

"Too right I did," he hissed. "I made that fucker's screams long and loud before he died. Made him beg for mercy and denied him of it. Death was too good for him."

 

Jim could actually feel himself getting slightly aroused at the talk of Seb torturing and offing his own father. "Now that's  _my_ kind of afternoon," he purred, reaching up to comb his fingers through Seb's hair. "Did you enjoy it?"

 

Seb's eyes went dark, as if shutters had been drawn over whatever light that was behind them. "No," he said hollowly. "And yes."

 

"Why no?"

 

"Because it wouldn't bring her back, no matter how many times I washed my hands in his blood. It wouldn't bring her _back_ ," he said, his voice choking slightly.

 

It struck Jim to see just how hurt Seb was by all of this. "Tell me, Sebby darling, my gorgeous, jungle Tiger. Tell Jimmy here and he'll try to make it better. He'll try to fix it for you."

 

A tremor went through Seb. _Fuck this I'm not going to cry in front of Jim, I'm not I'm not I'm NOT_..."Dad...would hit me and Mum. Her a lot more than me. I was ten when he killed her. He was hitting her and I got in front of him and he started pounding on me. Mum got in the way...to protect me and...he hit her too hard. Something inside her broke, I could hear the snap all the way from across the room. It's _my_ fault she's dead..." he said, his voice a near-whisper.

 

"My Tiger...my Sebby..." Jim crooned, scratching right behind the other boy's ear where he knew he liked it. "Well, it was sort of your fault but not really. Your dad was a prick and an arse and it would have happened sooner or later even if you hadn't been there. Happened with my Uncle and cousins, only he was raping her and her brother tried to stop it."

 

Seb leaned into Jim's touch and held him tighter. "Your uncle...is he dead?" he asked shortly.

 

"He killed my cousin's brother and she put a bullet in his brain. Violence 'runs in the family.'"

 

" _Good_." Seb snarled, burying his face into Jim's shoulder, simply breathing him in.

 

Clever fingers continued playing with blonde curls, twirling them around pinkies and combing out tangles with pointers and rings fingers. "Come on. Join me under the bed for a picnic. you can even bring a blanket," he teased.

 

Seb actually cracked a smile. "I'd...I'd like that."

 

"Good. The put me down and get what you need. Grab the red from the fridge and glasses would you? You need a drink." Jim crawled back under the bed, grabbing a small lantern that he turned on, flooding the corners with light.

 

"Fuck yes I do..." Seb muttered and did as he was told. A picnic under the bed with his lover...he smiled again. This day was just full of surprises.

 

Jim poured them the wine and set up the blanket the way he wanted before getting out all of the takeaway containers. "Plates, Sebby. Wouldn't want to ruin your things now, would we? Besides, it's far less messy than eating from the container."

 

"True," Seb said, snagging a pair of chopsticks and using them with precision as he dug into his food.

 

Jim watched his lover eat for a few minutes before he took a bite of his beef, the sauce dribbling down his chin as he tried to take too much at once. "Fucking hell," he mumbled.

 

Seb smirked. "Let me get that for you," he said, leaning over and licking the sauce off his chin before kissing the remnants of it off of his lover's lips.

 

Jim started squirming but threw himself into the kiss wholeheartedly. _Youlovehimyoufuckinglovehimyousod_ , his brain hissed as the blonde plundered his mouth, tasting the remnants of his beef and broccoli. He gently nibbled Jim's lower lip before he took what he wanted, tongue exploring his mouth before withdrawing to kiss the corner's of Jim's lips.

 

That made the boy shiver. There was that word again, insistent and on the tip of his tongue. Seb returned to fully explore Jim's mouth again, smiling into his lips, surprisingly content for the moment.

 

" _Iloveyou_." There. It was out, stolen by the boy kissing him and swallowed down into his hulking frame.

 

Seb stopped, his mind and body screeching to a halt as he stole the words out of Jim's mouth with his own. He looked at the smaller boy in front of him, his eyes nearly fever-bright. "What did you say?" he asked, hardly daring to believe it.

 

Jim turned pink, mostly with frustration and a slight hint with embarrassment and anger. He was supposed to have better control than that. "Nothing."

 

"Jim...Jimmy... _James_...please don't lie to me."

 

It was very strange to hear Sebastian begging like that. "Fine. I said I love you, all right? Are you hap-"

 

Seb didn't wait for him to finish. He claimed Jim's mouth in a rough, joyful kiss, taking it as if he needed Jim to breathe. Growling and squeaking, Jim returned what he could, unable to keep up with his boyfriend. Breaking for air, the blonde drew a ragged breath before he whispered "I love you," repeating the words between fierce kisses, clutching Jim tightly to him.

 

Now he couldn't breathe properly. Seb had crushed or stolen all of the air from his body, and Jim was getting dizzier by the second, but Seb had just said he loved him back. Was that good? Was it something that deserved or needed to be returned? His parents had never said it, he'd never really heard it before but he knew it was what people said if they...if they cared about someone else.

 

Finally breaking because he realized that Jim needed to breathe, Seb rested his forehead on his, grinning like a loon. "You love _me_ ," he said, his voice awed. " _You_ love _me_."

 

"If this is how it feels then yes. Chest hurts, brain consumed with thoughts of you all the fucking time, everywhere I look it's muscled abs and strong hands and blonde, curly hair and don't even get me started on your cock. Every time I'm chewing on my pen in class..."

 

Seb purred, pleased with himself. " _Exactly_ ," he murmured.

 

"Don't look so fucking smug."

 

He fought to keep a straight face and failed spectacularly. "Apologies, sir."

 

Jim's nose twitched. Seb kissed the tip of his boyfriend's nose. "C'mon, we can snog later. I'm starving," he said, retrieving his chopsticks from where they had fallen.

 

Jim downed half his glass of wine before digging back into his food and curling up against Seb's warmth, fighting his desire to just gobble everything down and make Seb take him right there.

 

"Slow down, Magpie! We have all the time in the world," he drawled, draping an arm over Jim's waist and pulling him possessively closer, nuzzling into him.

 

Jim grumbled but slowed down almost lasciviously, determined to make Seb as uncomfortable as he was, and sucking a single sesame noodle through his lips was the way he decided to go

 

Oho... so he was going to be like that, then? Seb squirmed slightly as he saw Jim's lips curl and suck around a noodle. _Two can play at that game_ , he thought. He retrieved a dumpling and slowly lapped the sauce off of it, taking his time with his tongue before he sank his teeth into the food, almost delicately biting it in half.

 

Jim nearly choked on the noodle. "Are we saving anything for tomorrow?" he asked, throat very dry.

 

"Depends," Seb said, smirking.

 

"On what?"

 

"On what you _want_."

 

Jim looks like the Grinch when he got his terrible, awful idea. "Well, if it isn't too much of a strain on your primeval brain soaked in love and other things, I think I'd rather enjoy it if you took me to bed."

 

Seb sat up quickly, nearly forgetting he was under the bed and stopped just in time to avoid hitting his head against the metal springs that held the shitty mattress in place. " _Yes_."

 

oOoOo

 

The bouquet in hand, a simpering smile on his face, and dressed in ridiculous jeans and a jumper, Jim made his way to English the following week. Molly hesitated outside the door to the classroom, a deep green turtleneck jumper hiding the now-livid bruises on her neck. Taking a breath, she made her way inside and found her seat, willing herself to breathe evenly.

 

Jim slipped into the room early, even beating the professor. He was thrilled to see that Molly was as punctual as ever. He wandered over almost shyly to the girl's desk. "These are for you."

 

She started when she saw Jim, and was _highly_ confused. He tried to drown her, and now he was giving her flowers...? "Oh...th-thank you," she said, ever the polite girl as she took the bouquet. She looked it over: roses and violets amidst the usual sprays of baby's breath and ferns for added greenery. She put her nose to the blossoms to take in their scent, and caught a whiff of something different. She frowned slightly as she looked through the arrangement to find what was _off,_ exactly. It didn't take long before she found it, and her face went deathly white. Hidden in the center of the beautiful blooms was a sprig of rosemary. _Rosemary, that's for remembrance_. He remembered how she had refused him. He remembered how she had caught him. He remembered how his first attempt had _failed_. (1)

 

"I thought they reminded me of you, and sort of an apology," he added, watching her face and taking delight in its change in pallor. "So I can always remember everything."

 

She nodded mutely, looking at the bouquet as if it had turned into a live bomb. He leaned in and pressed a very gentle kiss to her cheek. "No hard feelings?"

 

She flinched as if he had struck her. _Of course there are hard feelings, you psychopath! You tried to_ drown _me!_ she thought, but she shook her head.

 

"Lovely," he said, taking his normal seat at her side just as Sherlock entered the room.

 

Molly's heart raced as she saw him walk in, remembering the all too brief kiss pressed to her lips when she was in the hospital. Her breath caught momentarily before she managed to compose herself.

 

Jim's eyes flicked in her direction. _So, now that we aren't together, you're truly crushing on the Professor. Bad Kitten_...

 

Sherlock took several steadying breaths before greeting them. "Good morning, Mr. Moriarty. Good morning, Miss Hooper."

 

"Good morning, professor," she murmured back. _Keep it together, Molly. No one can know...not anyone_.

 

"Yes, good morning, _Professor_ ," Jim drawled, noting the faint flush of Molly's face. It didn't take a genius to figure out just how much she had fallen for the man. _In such a short time? Or has she truly been concealing her feelings since the beginning_?

 

Molly was somewhat taken aback at just how strong the feelings she had for him were. She had kept them damped down to almost nonexistence when she was with Jim, but she was no longer with the boy now. That banked fire had room to grow and expand, and it had with a vengeance. Sherlock did everything he could to remain oblivious to the girl in the back of the room and was extremely relieved when the rest of the class filed in. He handed their tests back swiftly and began the class.

 

"Your exam is next week, so your final papers are due no later than 5pm on Tuesday either to me in the hall, in my mailbox, or in my office. Hardcopies only. No excuses. Your rough drafts should be finished by now, and I am feeling rather generous today and will let you confer with your classmates for peer editing. Do not make me regret that decision."

 

She cast her eyes about the room, searching for someone, _anyone_ to work with other than the boy next to her, but no one spared her a glance, like she was some sort of social pariah.

 

"Do you have yours, Molly? I'll let you look at mine."

 

She froze, hearing the innuendo, before she swapped papers with him. His was flawless, as always, not needing any attention or corrections. It was amusing to read her writings, an exploration of Ophelia as a tragic heroine in a powerless and fated role. Soon growing bored of reading and correcting, he started doodling in the margins: a heart on fire, a tree, his bed, whatever came to mind. He can even feel Seb's eyes on him, the boy furious that Jim was partnered with Molly even though he knew the plan and that it was necessary.

 

The time ticked by slowly, agonizingly. Finally, she spoke to him. "Are you almost done?"

 

"Of course, pet," he replied with a grin, handing it back. She swallowed hard as she saw the doodles in the margins, all of them in blood-red ink. A heart on fire, a bed, a swaying willow. _Ohgod._

 

Smirking, Jim skipped from the class, giving his excuses that he was done, deciding for once to just go back and put the finishing touches on the blasted paper so he could just hand it in and be done.

 

Molly sat and stared at the innocently ominous sketches, her shaking hands crinkling the edges of the paper, hardly noticing when the rest of the class left. She finally looked around and saw that she was the only one remaining and stood on unsteady legs, gathering her things and leaving the bouquet behind.

 

oOoOo

 

Jim was positively jumping with glee when Seb returned to their room. "Perfection! It was marvelous. Oh, Sebby, she's _terrified_!"

 

Seb smirked. "Not at all surprised. You can be fucking _terrifying_ , Boss."

 

"Oh?" Jim was in front of the boy before he could blink. "I can? How terrifying, Sebby? _Exactly_ how terrifying?"

 

The larger boy took an unconscious step backwards. "Just like this. So innocuous-looking, but with all that steel underneath, and that big, scary brain at work all the time, seeing the truth. And the truth is frightening. That's what makes you terrifying."

 

"Ooooh, truth is frightening? Does the big, mean old Tiger have deep dark secrets? Like what he's doing with his eyes right now? Oooo, I should punish you for thinking that, Sebby, love. Undressing me with your eyes? Might have to lock you in here until you have your way with me."

 

Seb groaned, his trousers tightening. "I wish I could, but I have a class I need to go to," he said, hissing as a particularly strong throb of desire hit. He wanted nothing more than to pin Jim to the mattress and fuck him into oblivion, but he couldn't afford to miss, especially seeing as he was extremely close to flunking out. He glanced at the clock again and bit his lip. "Something quick..." he said, his voice hoarse. "Need your hands on me..."

 

"Then," Jim whispered, walking up closer to Seb and trailing his fingers over the front of his trousers, "you'd better say please."

 

He felt his eyes nearly roll back into his head at the feather-light touch of Jim's fingers on the front of his trousers. " _Please_...OhgodJim _please_..."

 

"Only if you promise to make me scream your name tonight. Has to be tonight. I won't wait forever..."

 

"Done," moaned Seb, rocking his hips into Jim's hand.

 

Quick as a flash, Jim has Seb's trousers undone and his hand is down his pants, squeezing and stroking. "You don't want a mess, you move the rest of it because I'm not."

 

Seb fumbled with his clothes to get them out of the way; he didn't feel like changing again. He arched and thrust into Jim's touch, nearly whining. Quick, short, almost violent strokes with a teasing flick across the head, that was how Jim took Seb for the first few minutes before sinking to his knees without warning and swallowing him down

 

Seb shrieked hoarsely as Jim swallowed his cock, feeling the hot, wet grip of his lover's mouth surround him suddenly. He dug his fingers into Jim's hair and pulled slightly, resisting the impulse to start thrusting wildly. Jim snarled, running his teeth along his boyfriend's length as he licked and lapped and sucked and swallowed.

 

The scrape of teeth was what pushed him to the brink. "JESUSFUCKINGCHRISTJIM!" he half-moaned, half-shouted. A few more tricks with that clever, lying tongue of his and he was coming, spending his essence down Jim's hot throat. The younger boy swallowed with some difficulty, still shuddering slightly at the bitter taste before pulling off and leaving Seb with a sore, twitching, over-sensitive, damp, limp cock.

 

"You better believe I'm going to be making you scream my name tonight," Seb promised, panting, waiting to catch his breath a little before he tucked himself away into his trousers, his breath hitching slightly.

 

"Just know that I'll be touching myself and thinking of you while you're in your class and that it'll be your name I whisper," Jim replied from his knees, smirking up at his lover.

 

" _Christ,_ " Seb moaned as he grabbed his satchel. He hesitated a moment before he walked out the door. "I love you," he said.

 

Jim cracked his neck before shooting Seb a half smile. "Love you too, Tiger."

 

Seb grinned and swept out of the door, a spring in his step.

 

oOoOo

 

Realizing he'd forgotten his skull (had to get Yorick back now that he was cleaning out his classroom for the holidays), Sherlock returned to grab it only to discover the bouquet of flowers on Molly's desk. His traitorous heart skipped a few beats as he picked it up, examining it. Red roses: passionate love, violets: faithfulness, Baby's breath- festivity, Rosemary-remembrance.

 

He froze, his face going pale as the last item registered in his mind. _Oh no_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to realize that whenever we write Jim and Seb, there is /always/ some kind of food play involved...it just seems to happen.


	23. Sex, Flowers, and Apples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seb has to make good on his promise, Molly is summoned to Sherlock's office, and Jim leaves the girl with one final gift before the winter holidays arrive.

Seb glared at the clock as if he could will time to speed up. Finally, his class was over and he nearly ran back to his and Jim's room. He got to the door and grinned, recalling Jim's wish..." _Make me scream your name_." He would do that;  oh God would he _ever_.

Making sure the chair was under the door handle, Jim relaxed on his bed, counting down the seconds until...

Seb _tried_ to open the door...but it was blocked. He could hear it hitting something, and he snarled. The fucker had put a chair under the door handle again. "Jim...it's Sebby. Let me in..." he said, his voice low and husky.

"Whyyyyyy?"

"Because I'm cold and hungry, and I want to fuck you into the mattress."

"The first two aren't excuses. But I might for the third..."

Seb sighed. " _Please_..." he asked softly.

"Please _what_?"

His lip curled a bit. "Please... _sir_."

Jim bounded from the bed and moved the chair. "It's ooopppennnn."

Seb opened the door, then slammed it shut behind him and threw down his satchel before crossing the room and claiming Jim's mouth fiercely with his own. Jim groaned, eyes rolling back into his head as he threw his arms around Seb's neck. He hiked up Jim's shirt, caressing the skin of his torso and pulling him closer, their hips flush with each other. The smaller boy started rolling his hips against Seb. "Hard already...did you sit through that entire class with a boner after I sucked you off?"

"Nearly all of it," Seb panted, almost keening as Jim's hips started moving against his own. He trailed his hands downwards and grabbed them as he bucked into his lover, feeling Jim as hard as stone as well.

Pale fingers dug their nails into the skin of Seb's scalp as he attacked the other boy's mouth with his teeth. "You're _mine_."

Seb let out a gasp as he felt Jim's fingernails dig into his scalp and his teeth worry at his mouth. "Yesssss," he hissed, moving his hand between them to cup Jim's length and frantically tear at the button and zip of his trousers.

"More...ohdearfuckinghellSebastianfuckmeNOW!"

He felt as if his skin was going to crawl right off of him with the sheer force of desire thrumming through him. He shoved Jim roughly back to the bed, ripping at their clothes until he had them both bare. He found the lube and a condom and hurriedly rolled it on and slicked up his fingers and his cock before he plunged two digits into Jim's entrance, being sure to go at least a little slowly so he didn't hurt his lover. Jim's head was spinning as Seb stripped them and threw him to the bed, the younger boy shrieking profanities as Seb worked him open with rough fingers. "FUCKINGCHRISTSEBBYFUCKITIWANTYOUNOW!!!!" he yelled, writhing and twisting under him.

Seb growled low in his chest. "You want me? How _badly_ do you want me?" he asked, nipping the skin of Jim's shoulder as he curled his fingers.

Jim involuntarily tried to close his legs as Seb's fingers twisted and brushed his prostate. "V-very b-badly, Tiger..."

He let out a pleased chuckle as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock, sliding into him _slowly_. Jim scrabbled at Seb's back, scratching and clawing as he tried to pull him closer. "MOREYOUFUCKTARD"

"Tsk...such _language_ ," Seb said, even as he drove home with a snap of his hips.

All the air left Jim's lungs as Seb bottomed out, his own body going oddly slack and boneless. "Oh my..."

"Speechless? That's new," he said as he leaned down and claimed Jim's lips in a burningly sweet kiss as he began to move.

Jim licked the boy's kiss swollen lips, his groin and arse tingling as Seb rocked in and out. "Oh Sebby...my Tiger...my l-love..."

"My Jim, my Magpie, my beloved," Seb murmured, drawing him closer, resting his forehead on Jim's shoulder, his eyes shut in bliss. He snapped them open after a few moments and reared back his head to sink his teeth where he had just been touching.

"OWWWWWWWWW!" Jim roared, grinding up against Seb as hard as he could and digging his nails down the wide expanse of his back and drawing blood. The blonde howled as Jim's nails tore open furrows of blood down his back, causing him to snap his hips and drive deeper, hitting the smaller boy's prostate. He withdrew and did it again, now setting a hard pace.

"Fuck-Seb-OW-GOD-DON'TSTOP-GAH-MORE-"

"With _pleasure_ ," Seb hissed; he slipped a hand down and started stroking Jim's swollen cock in time with his thrusts.

Jim's vision was going, he could feel the heat thrumming through his body and down to pool in his gut. "I need more...I'm so close..."

Seb laved his tongue from the bite marks that graced Jim's shoulder to his throat, pressing kisses around the base of his neck and sucking the skin right below where the line of his collar would have rested, marking him as _his_.

"Hanh-ohSebby-oh Sebby...p- _please_ -"

Seb licked his way up to Jim's earlobe and nipped it before he breathed hotly in his lover's ear. "Cum for me...cum for _me_ , my love."

"SEBBYTIGERLOVEMINE!" Jim screamed as he saw white, and his cock throbbed, pouring his release onto Seb's chest and his stomach. The smaller boy clamped down on Seb's length as his muscles clenched and rolled around his lover. Seb roared as Jim's muscles clamped around him, ripping his orgasm from him. Once he was utterly spent, he half-collapsed on top of Jim, panting as his vision slowly returned and his heart rate and breathing came back to normal.

Chuckling weakly, Jim began scratching Seb's head, petting him like a large cat. Seb purred as he pulled out of Jim and disposed of the condom before tenderly cleaning them both off and snuggling close to him.

"You're so fucking cuddly, Seb."

He nuzzled into Jim's skin. "Only with you."

"Oh? So if it were anyone else, you'd fuck 'em and run? I feel _honored_."

He glowered. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. You are the only person I have ever loved like this. The only person I ever will."

Jim felt the blush rising to his face in spite of himself. "Sentimental fucktard."

Seb smirked. "Psychopathic man-child."

"Man-child? Who are you, Rudyard Kipling? Half-wit"

"It's a turn of phrase. Jerkwad."

"Tosser."

"Twat."

"Cunt."

"Bitch."

"Arsehole."

Seb thought of a name and nearly howled with laughter, knowing that it would catch him off-guard. He struggled to keep a straight face. "Sweetheart..." he crooned as he pressed a kiss to Jim's neck.

The boy stiffened, his nose twitching as if scenting blood in the water. "Honey pie."

"Dearest."

"Kittenface"

 _Kittenface_...? "Fuzzylumpkin..."

One eyebrow raised incredulously. "Sugarbuns."

"Hot lips."

"Demon tongue."

Seb used said 'demon tongue' to lightly lick the sweat off of Jim's skin. "Best-beloved. Now _that's_ Kipling."

"I know that you arse, I just didn't think you did."

"Not as smart as you, but not a Neanderthal, my love."

"Could have fooled me, shite-for-brains."

Seb chuckled. "Making people underestimate me is a talent of mine, apparently." He yawned hugely, fatigue from a long day and the intense lovemaking now setting in. "Get some sleep...you're going to need it for your _plans_."

"Don't want to sleep. Not the _least_ bit tired."

"Then just...lie here and hold me while _I_ sleep? Please?" he asked, the question somewhat plaintive.

"You're asking for a post shag cuddle? What are you, twelve?"

Seb scowled. "I can always go back to my bed and leave you here, cold," he retorted.

"You do that and you'll wake up with no fingernails. And tied up with a hard on"

Seb winced. "Fine. I'll just roll over and not bother, then," he said, feeling slightly hurt for no apparent reason.

Jim scooted closer and wrapped his arms around the bigger boy's middle. "You know I'm fucking with you, don't you?"

He smiled, placing his hand over Jim's. "With you, it's hard to tell."

"You know how cuddly I can be, even though I hate that I am." Jim nuzzled Seb's shoulder blades, mouthing them before licking and sucking the taut skin and muscle.

"Yet another item to add to my list of things I love about you," he said, breathless as he felt Jim's mouth and tongue on his skin.

"Now give us a kiss if you're going to sleep. I can practically feel you aching for it."

He rolled over and claimed Jim's mouth in a searing kiss, breaking it only when he needed air, resting his forehead on Jim's and panting. "Good night, my love," he murmured.

Curling up against Seb's chest and twining their legs, Jim kissed Seb's chest. "Guess I fucking love you too, huh?"

He smiled as he closed his eyes. "Yeah, I guess you do."

"Shut up. I thought you were tired."

Seb was actually falling asleep now. "Y'keep talking," he murmured, dozing off.

"You keep answering."

Seb sighed and just snuggled closer in response.

Jim waited until the boy was asleep to really snuggle closer, not just the half-arsed thing he'd been doing before. Wrapping Seb's arms around him tighter, Jim pressed his back against the boy and held Seb's larger hands on his own stomach, mind buzzing and whirring with plans and schemes until he too fell asleep.

oOoOo

Molly stopped in front of the doors to Prof. Holmes' office...no... _Sherlock's_ office. It was going to take some getting used to, calling him by his name, even if only in her head. She took a deep breath and rapped on the door. "You wanted to see me?" she asked as it swung open.

"Yes, come in and close the door," Sherlock said, the room seeming to heat several degrees. "Have a seat...Molly."

She closed the door and sat, her face already flushing and her heart beginning to pound. To hear her name from his lips: _Molly_ , not 'Miss Hooper'...it was most _agreeable_.

"I'm well aware that my note said I wanted to discuss your paper, but, I wanted to discuss _this_." He pulled the bunch of flowers out from behind his chair and set them on his desk

She blanched when she saw them, the bouquet slightly withered. "I don't know _why_ he gave them to me. But I know it isn't to wish me well," she said darkly.

"Seeing as there is rosemary concealed in the bouquet, no. I don't think he means well either."

Molly let out a shuddering breath. "What am I going to do?" she asked softly, "I'm _scared_. And I know that's what he wants, but I have no idea how to react, how to fight back if there's a way. No one would believe me if I told them...well, no one but you. Maybe not even you...I don't know..."

"I was not sure until I saw this. Considering the river and the willow tree and now the rosemary, I would say that Jim Moriarty has it in for you, Molly Hooper. And, as confusing as this all is, I don't want to see any hurt come to you. I can't even figure out what half of these feelings are but they are pushy and overwhelming and the thought of him touching you makes me so angry that I could..." He trailed off, his eyes going steely.

Her eyes went wide and her heart sped more. She swallowed hard before tentatively reaching out a hand and laying it over his, where it was clenched into a fist on his desk. "Thank you...for being concerned. And...and for _having_ these feelings," she said quietly, the corners of her lips curving upwards into a gentle smile.

"I don't understand them, Molly!"

She hesitated. "I don't want to put words in your mouth, but...to me, at least, it sounds like...ah... _attraction_. And it's hard to make sense of them, it really is."

He looked at her, confused, hot, mouth dry and palms damp. "I've never felt anything akin to this before. Ever. Not even with the Woman in Uni and I knew she was just playing around, but she never got to me. Ever. And now here you are and I don't understand. I want to kiss you but that's wrong because I'm your professor and you my student. I want to protect you, but I'm not sure how since your story won't be believed and no one would even think Moriarty is capable of something like this. He's a model student."

Her breath left her in a rush. " _I want to kiss you_." Oh dear God. "I don't know how I'd get anyone to believe my story either. Not many people, if any, like me. And everyone _adores_ Jim..." she said, her free hand flying to the collar of her shirt, where the still-livid bruises remained. "And as for the other, I want to kiss you right back, even though you're my professor and I'm your student."

He stared at her, unblinking. "Ah. I see. It would appear that you do and you have since the first moment you set foot in my class."

She ducked her head, embarrassed. "Yes," she said, biting her lip and withdrawing her hands to fiddle with the hem of her shirt.

"The thought has, uh, occasionally crossed my mind since that particular class. You remember. When I was in that play back in my own Uni days, my director always told me to follow my impulses, but I fear that only made things worse for you in the long run. Will you-will you forgive me?"

Her eyes met his, brown holding blue. "Of course I forgive you. I...ah...didn't help matters, either," she said sheepishly, recalling (as she did, often) how she ran her fingers through his hair while his head was resting in her lap.

"I liked what you did. It was rather inspired actually, exactly what I would have done had I been in your place, but no, no it didn't help things for either of us."

She fidgeted again. "I...um...I wasn't acting for that part," she said, blushing all the way to the roots of her hair.

Now it was his turn to blush. "Oh."

Molly felt a rush of pride run through her to see the faintest hint of pink scald his cheekbones. "So, where do we go from here?" she asked, meaning both her troubles with Jim and their now-mutual realization that they cared for one another.

"Very, _very_ carefully," he replied

She nodded, in full understanding. If they were caught together, she would get expelled and he would lose his job, his teaching license, and might even go to prison. "Carefully," she agreed.

He rose and checked the door and windows, making sure everything was locked and bolted and the shutters had no cracks in them. "I'd like to do something, but we have to be completely silent."

She stood as well, slightly confused. "All right..." she said slowly, feeling the air thick with electricity and expectation. He turned off the lights and pulled her close, trying to dispel the thoughts that this was _such_ a bad idea. Once she was in his space he took a deep breath and bent down to kiss her gently.

The room was dark, Sherlock was so close to her that Molly could feel his body heat and then...oh and _then_...his lips were on hers. Her breath left her in a rush and her eyes widened, but she slowly rested her hands on his shoulders, then clasped them around the back of his neck.

Untrained and uncertain lips brushed against her experimentally, curiously, Sherlock trying to work things out without seeming as inexperienced as he was. She felt him move slowly, almost uncertainly against her mouth. She suspected that he was new at this, but would never say as much. In fact, she didn't quite care. It actually sent a thrill through her, to know that she was his _first_ kiss. She gently opened her lips against his as one hand brushed lightly against his ebony curls.

He shuddered at her fingers in his hair; Sherlock was almost certain that she had no idea what that did to him. He opened his own mouth, copying her subtle lead as he tightened his grip on her waist. Molly gently took the lead in the kiss, their mouths parting only to rejoin, their breathing growing more ragged, pausing occasionally to catch their breath. During one such lull she looked into his eyes, as much as the dim lighting would allow. Then she leaned in and kissed him again, her tongue darting out to just brush his lips.

He gasped softly before he found his own tongue flicking out to brush against hers, to taste her mouth and he had to stifle a moan. They would need to stop soon or he was worried he might not be able to. Her eyes nearly rolled back into her head as she felt his tongue move against hers and she clutched a little tighter, winding her fingers through his hair, brushing her fingertips along his scalp as they held each other close. He felt his knees buckle and the next thing he knew he had broken the kiss and was panting against her shoulder. "My god..." he whispered, trembling.

She was breathing heavily. "Yes," she murmured back, her chest heaving, feeling him resting against her shoulder. She moved the hand in his hair down the back of his neck to rest on his chest where she could feel the frantic beating of his heart, almost as fast as hers was going.

"We are going to have to be extremely careful if we're to carry on, Molly," he murmured

She nodded and pressed closer. She wanted... _needed_ the feeling of him in her arms, if only for a brief moment.

Hand sliding up her back, Sherlock held her close, silently grateful that she was alive and well and here. Molly relished the feeling of his touch. She bit her lip before whispering his name. "Sherlock...."

He had to swallow the lump in his throat at his name on her lips. "Soft now, the fair Ophelia," he replied in a whisper.

She let out a breathy chuckle. "My sweet prince, Hamlet."

oOoOo 

Jim saw her in her favorite corner of the library the day before the English exam, their last one before they were free for the winter holiday. He was thrilled at the prospect of not having to put up with all the boring shit for a month, but it would cut down on his time with Sebby. He was debating whether or not to just drag the boy home with him and fuck all what his parents thought when he was Molly stretch and leave, clearly heading to the loo. Once she was out of sight, he strode forward and place the item in his hand on top of the book she was reading... _Hamlet_ , of course. His lip curled slightly. "You should not have believed me, for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I loved you not," he murmured as he ran a pale finger down the edge of the book, the image suddenly striking him of Sebastian pressing him up against a bookshelf and fucking him mercilessly in completely silence. Library rules of course. He slipped back away into the shelves to hide himself before Molly's return, eager to watch. (1)

Molly paused in her studying, poring over the volume of _Hamlet_ in front of her for her final exam of the fall semester. She stretched and got up to use the loo, cracking her neck as she went, rolling her shoulders as well. She was confident that she'd do well on this one. She sighed as she looked in the mirror in the bathroom. She had to crack a grin at her reflection; the memory of kissing Sherlock in his office the other day was enough to get her through the tedium that was exams. When she returned, there was a bright red apple sitting on her open book. Molly looked around, confused. There was, as far as she knew, nobody up there with her. She picked it up and felt something carved into the flesh on the opposite side of it. She turned the fruit so she could see it and went as white as snow, dropping the apple as if it had burned her. It rolled away, the message facing her as a rebuke, as a warning, as a promise.

 _I. O. U_.

Jim could feel his lips break into a grin as he disappeared from the library and back to his room, already planning what to tell Sebby about coming home with him, and saving the look on Molly's face to his mental archives. Now she knew, and now she was scared. He had a month to plan and then execute everything the next semester. Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)- Act III, Scene i, in the "Get Thee to a Nunnery" scene, Hamlet denounces his love for Ophelia
> 
> And that's the end of Act 1! I'll start working on the second part of the story soon, but in the meantime, some very /interesting/ stories should be going up. Check my works page for more entertaining Fic goodness.
> 
> Ta to every single one of you who has read this. We're completely chuffed.


End file.
